


A Direction I Can Take My Shoes

by doomcheese, velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spaced
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Based on a TV show, Breakups, Clubbing, Comedy, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fisticuffs, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Strong opinions about Star Wars and bronies, Zombies, an overly caffeinated steve rogers, bogling in front of the mirror is totally research, mild paintball based violence, stucky is endgame I swear, tony stark in a kimono calling people kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 01:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomcheese/pseuds/doomcheese, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: Steve Rogers, twentysomething, just wants to draw graphic novels. Bucky is a serious author, who just so happens to be serious about magazine articles for bogling and winter skincare dos and don’ts. When all the apartment listings require ‘professional couples only’, well, a guy has to get creative. What can possibly go wrong? Aside from Bronies, paintballing, battling robots, zombies, and their wine-soaked landlord Tony?Aka the Spaced au one person begged for. Loudly.





	1. Part 1, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OMG WHERE TO START.  
> Okay. First thanks to the mods for setting up this bang. Next thanks to the group chat for being stellar and cheering me on when I wrote this in a frenzied ten days back in January. Thanks to seisei aka Doomcheese for being the most amazing artist and illustrating my fic in a way I could never have imagined. Thanks to likealichen for the fantastic beta, and to all my cheerleaders.  
> The biggest thank you goes to Fox, who not only supplied the amazing summary but also some of the funniest lines in this fic. I doubt I would have got this finished without you screaming with me about it. <3
> 
> Title is from Super Furry Animals "Ice Hockey Hair" which was on the original Spaced soundtrack.

Bucky sat morosely in the cafe, staring at the classified ads in the local paper. He had assumed that finding an apartment would be easy—he was twenty five, for fuck’s sake; he was too old to be living in a squat. Especially given that everyone in the squat was a directionless loser, whereas he was _going places_. He was going to be the best journalistic writer the magazine world had ever seen. 

He read the classifieds again, just in case he'd missed something. He hadn't, and sighed. 

“Mind if I sit here?” 

Bucky looked up, and saw a really cute guy with short blond hair and blue eyes looking at him, coffee cup in hand. 

“Uh, go ahead,” Bucky said, gesturing to the seats opposite. The guy smiled at him, and Bucky felt a lurch in his chest. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each sipping at their coffee, before the guy caught his eye. 

“Anything interesting?” he asked, gesturing to the newspaper. 

“Yes. Well, no. I'm trying to find an apartment, which you'd think would be easy in a city, but they're either too expensive, or too small. Or that one I went to see yesterday which smelled of cat piss,” Bucky sighed. 

“Did they have a lot of cats?”

“Not that I could see.”

“Do you mind if I have a look?” the guy asked. “My girlfriend cheated on me with her boss, some asshole called Brock, and just kicked me out, so I guess I'm looking for an apartment too.”

“Oh, man, I'm so sorry!” Bucky replied, shocked that anyone would cheat on someone so hot. “That sucks.”

The guy shrugged. “She was the love of my life, but I'm sure I'll get over it. Why are you looking?”

“Well, I've been living in this place… well, it's more of a squat, really, you couldn't really call it an apartment because that implies that there’s enough bedrooms for everyone, and—”

“Skip to the end?” the guy said, and Bucky realized he'd been babbling. 

“—so now I'm looking for an apartment.”

The guy nodded, as Bucky took his last sip of coffee. 

“Anyway,” Bucky said brightly, “I have another apartment to look at, but it was great to meet you!”

“You too,” the guy replied with a grin, and Bucky wandered out the cafe, even more determined than before. 

***

The next day, Bucky went back to the cafe, newspaper in hand, and saw the same guy already sitting in there. He got his coffee, then went over to the guy’s table. 

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked with a smile when the guy looked up. 

“Oh, hey! No, go ahead!” The guy spotted the newspaper in his hand and grimaced. “Still not found anything?”

Bucky shook his head. “The one I saw yesterday afternoon? The landlord tried to convince me to join his cult.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, so I got out of there as soon as I could.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” The guy smiled, and Bucky felt that weird feeling in his chest again. 

***

It had become a routine, almost. Sometimes Bucky would show up first, sometimes the guy, but they always met in that cafe. Every day for a week, until finally, as the guy sipped his coffee and Bucky ended another fruitless search in the classifieds, Bucky broke down. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” he wailed. “I’m never going to find anything and I’m going to be stuck in that squat forever!” He folded his arms on the table over the open newspaper and thumped his forehead down on them, sobbing loudly. 

“Hey, it’s okay!” the guy said, patting him awkwardly on top of his head. “It’s not that h-hopelessss,” he finished, dissolving into tears himself. Their sobs echoed each other, when suddenly an ad that Bucky hadn’t noticed before caught his eye on the page below. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, lifting his head and wiping his eyes. “What’s this? Two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, fully furnished… Oh. Professional couples only.”

The guy frowned. “That sucks. You got any single friends who are homeless and who would pretend?”

A thought struck Bucky. “Well. I do know _one_ possible candidate?” The guy looked at him blankly as Bucky shot him a hopeful look. 

***

“Okay, so you were born on July fourth, 1993, to Joseph and Sarah Rogers,” Bucky recited as they walked down the street. “Your father was killed in action in Afghanistan when you were seven years old, and your mom, who was a nurse, raised you until she passed away from comorbid tuberculosis and pneumonia when you were 19. Sorry about that, by the way, that sucks.”

“Thanks.”

“Aside from that, pretty normal childhood. You got your first bike for your sixth birthday, and in terms of love life you had your first girlfriend at 12, and your first boyfriend at 15. Your preferred method of transport is your skateboard, although you’re not above taking the subway. You aspire to be a graphics artist working on comic books—“

“Graphic novels!”

“—graphic novels, although you’re currently waiting on your big break and supplement your income by working at Five Star Comics as an assistant.”

“Very good. Okay, your birthday is March tenth, 1992. Your parents are Winifred and George Barnes, who still live in Brooklyn. You have a younger sister called Rebecca who is currently working on her PhD in Mathematics. Your father is ex-Air Force, now retired, and your mother is a homemaker. You always wanted to play the drums but you were thwarted by the fact you lived in an apartment. You studied journalism at college and dream of one day being sent by a fancy magazine to far flung corners of the world to write think pieces.”

“Excellent!” Bucky said with a laugh. “Okay, time to make some memories!”

They wandered around Brooklyn that day, taking selfies together in different outfits and trying to make it look as though not all of the photos were taken in Brooklyn. They got the photographs developed and put them in an album, titled “Love”.

“Okay, I think we’re ready to go meet the landlord!” Bucky said, grinning. “Oh, hey, by the way, I’m Bucky,” he added, holding out his hand.

“Steve,” the guy replied, taking Bucky’s hand and shaking it. They smiled at each other before turning the corner and walking up to the small apartment building.

Steve pressed the buzzer and the two of them waited. Bucky could feel his palms sweating—what if the landlord asked a question that they hadn’t thought of the answer to?—but suddenly the door opened and it was too late.

“Helloooo?” the man in the doorway said slowly, holding his satin kimono dressing gown closed with one hand, and a cigarette hanging between the first two fingers of the other.

“Hi! We’re a couple!” Bucky blurted out, pulling Steve in by his waist. Steve gave him an exasperated look.

“We’re here about the apartment to rent?”

“Oh, right, come in!” The guy led them up to the top—third—floor, and into the apartment there. “We’ll do the interview first and then I’ll take you to see the apartment,” the man said. “Now, my name is Tony Stark. And you two are?” Bucky and Steve told him their names, as Tony took a sip of red wine from a large glass, even though it was only ten a.m. “So, what do you two do?”

“I’m a writer,” Bucky said quickly.

“Artist,” Steve said at the same time.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Working?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Steve and Bucky said simultaneously.

“Okay. Well, the apartment is yours if you want it,” Tony said, beaming at them both. 

Steve and Bucky looked at each other in surprise. “Wow, thanks,” Bucky managed.

“So how long have you two lovebirds been together?” Tony asked.

“Two years, three months, twenty one days,” Bucky and Steve said together, then laughed.

“Aww. Well that’s sweet. Come on, I’ll show you the apartment.” 

They followed Tony down to the second floor, and into the apartment there. It was small, but light and airy, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a combo kitchen-living room. Both Steve and Bucky enthused about how lovely it was, and Tony looked pleased. 

“And you’ve got a spare room just in case you ever decided to adopt,” Tony said brightly.

Steve and Bucky both laughed nervously, and Bucky cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, this would be a great room for a kid.”

“So you can move in whenever you like! Rent is due on the first of the month.”

They thanked Tony and left together, smiling at each other.

***

Bucky’s departure from the squat was uneventful. Everyone was too busy sleeping in amongst the myriad pizza boxes and beer bottles to pay attention to him leaving. He went out into the street and took a deep breath. He was finally free.

By the time he arrived at the apartment, he could hear voices coming from inside. He opened the door to see Steve alone, and looked around in confusion. 

“Bucky, this is Natasha, my best friend,” Steve said brightly, and Bucky was about to ask if Natasha was imaginary when a woman’s voice came from behind the door and Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hey.”

Bucky shut the door and there, behind it, was a young woman with red hair, what looked like a glock in hand. Bucky’s eyes widened. “Um?”

Steve nodded at Natasha. “I think the place is secure, thanks.” 

Natasha put her gun in a holster underneath her leather jacket and flopped down on the sofa between all the boxes. 

Steve looked at Bucky. “So, we gonna unpack now or leave it a while?”

Bucky shrugged. “The sooner we get it done the better, I think.”

Between the three of them they managed to unpack in pretty good time, and by that evening they were sitting around the dining table eating pizza and drinking wine. When they had finished, Natasha belched.

“Well, I’d better leave you two to it. Got maneuvers in the morning.”

“Cadets?” Bucky asked. 

Natasha shook her head. “Hudson Valley Hikers. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

After Natasha left, there was a somewhat awkward silence. Bucky suddenly realized that, for better or worse, he had moved in with a complete stranger.

Steve eventually broke the silence. “I’ll take the pizza boxes down to the trash.” 

Bucky nodded, and as soon as Steve left, Bucky dropped his head into his hands. What had he let himself in for?


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

Steve took a deep breath as he carried the pizza boxes down the stairs. He dropped one outside the first floor apartment door and cursed, kneeling to pick it up. As he knelt there, picking up pieces of crust which had escaped the box, the door slowly opened, and Steve stared up at the man who stood completely naked in front of him, painted completely green.

“Um?” Steve managed.

“You must be the new neighbor upstairs,” the naked green man said in a monotone. 

“Um. Yes?” Steve tried to find more words, but they had been lost at the sight of the green… bits right at his eye level.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Why are you naked? Why are you _green_?” Steve asked slightly hysterically, suddenly finding his voice.

The man shrugged. “I’m expressing myself.”

“Right.” Steve paused. “Fancy a coffee?”

The man looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sure.” He looked down at himself. “Maybe I should have a bath first.”

“Nah,” Steve said, waving a dismissive hand. “You, uh, you might want to put something on. Though.” He gestured in the general direction of the man’s genitals.

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Bruce. Banner.” The man—Bruce—held out his hand, but Steve just smiled at him wanly and he pulled it back, looking uncomfortable. “I’ll… be back.” He closed the door and Steve took a deep breath, grabbing the pizza boxes and heading out to the trash cans.

As he came back in, the door of the first floor apartment opened and Bruce came out, wearing a paisley dressing gown. It was reds and purples, which clashed so badly with the green Bruce was painted with that Steve could barely keep a straight face. 

He led Bruce upstairs to his and Bucky’s apartment, and opened the door. “Bucky, meet Bruce,” he said solemnly. 

Bucky looked up from his wine glass and his eyes widened when he saw the sight in front of him. “Um?”

“Bruce likes to express himself,” Steve explained, somehow just managing not to burst into hysterical laughter.

“Oh. So do you live downstairs, then?” Bucky asked. Bruce nodded. “Coffee? Wine?”

“Uh, wine please,” Bruce replied politely.

Steve poured Bruce a glass of red, then after a moment’s consideration, refilled his own glass. “So, Bruce. What do you do?”

“I’m an artist,” Bruce said with an air of tragedy.

“Oh that’s nice!” Bucky said brightly. “I have a cousin who paints landscapes, and Steve here draws graphic novels. What do you paint?”

Bruce looked at Bucky mournfully. “Emotions.”

“Oh.” Bucky paused. “What emotions?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “Anger, mostly.”

“Right… Lovely!” Bucky said brightly, taking a sip of his wine and widening his eyes at Steve over the rim of his glass.

As they sat there, casting around for any conversation topic that wouldn’t lead to more weirdness, there was a knock at the door. When Steve opened it, there stood Tony, cigarette in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and his satin kimono dressing gown tied around his waist. 

“Helloooo, kittens!” Tony greeted them, voice slightly slurred. Steve wondered just how much Tony drank. “Just thought I’d come down and see how you’re settling in.” He glanced at Bruce. “Hello, Bruce,” he added, something in his tone that made Bruce squirm and Steve raise his eyebrows. 

“Aww, that’s nice of you, Tony!” Bucky said with a smile. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, a top up of red would be lovely, thanks, kitten.” Tony sat on the sofa next to Bruce, and Bruce looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. 

Steve suddenly thought of something to say, and smiled at Bruce. “So, Bruce, how long have you lived here?”

“Uh, three years,” Bruce muttered.

“It’s a great area,” Bucky added. “We were lucky to find this place.”

“Aww, thanks, Bucky,” Tony said, beaming. “You two are so cute together!”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, and although Tony looked happy Steve could tell his smile was fake. 

“So how long have you two been together?” Bruce asked.

“Two years, three months, and twenty one days,” Steve and Bucky said together.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “That’s what you said when I asked you the other day?”

Steve thought quickly. “Yeah, um, we celebrate two anniversaries. I celebrate from the first time we kissed, and Bucky celebrates from the first time we had sex.”

“So which is it today?” Steve pointed to himself, and Bucky pointed to him too. Tony looked even more confused. “So you had sex before you kissed?”

“Um. Yes?”

There was a beat, then Tony raised his glass. “Well, happy anniversary!”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other. That had been a little too close for comfort.

They managed to make small talk for the next hour, until Bucky and Steve began to yawn. “You poor boys, you must be exhausted,” Tony cooed, and stood, slightly unsteadily. “Come on, Bruce. Let’s leave these two lovebirds to their first night in their new place!”

Bruce nodded reluctantly and left with Tony. Steve locked the door behind them then flopped back onto the sofa next to Bucky. “Well. That was weird,” Steve said quietly.

“What was?” Bucky asked.

“I think there’s something going on between Tony and Bruce.”

“No!” Bucky gasped. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Steve yawned again. “Ugh, I’m beat. Gonna turn in. Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Night, Steve.”

***

The following day, Steve sauntered into the comic book store where he worked, and greeted his boss, Sam. Sam looked like a really cool hipster-y guy but in reality was almost a bigger comics nerd than Steve was. He had started Five Star Comics with the inheritance he had received from his great grandmother, and made a decent profit on the sale of comics, graphic novels, board games, and various pieces of merchandise. 

A lot of what Steve did he liked to call ‘interactive marketing’—basically, he stood outside the store in an alien costume handing out flyers. Still, it paid the bills. Sort of.

Sam was reading the most recent issue of Justice League when Steve went back inside. Sam looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Raining,” Steve explained, voice slightly muffled through his costume head. 

“Fair enough. You wanna restock the shirt rack?”

“Sure, just let me get this off.” He went through to the back and struggled out of the too-warm suit, pulling his own clothes back on before grabbing some shirts from a box and taking them out on the shop floor. Batman always sold well, as did Superman, although since the recent movies, more people were buying Wonder Woman merch. In Steve’s opinion, that was the best thing. Wonder Woman was kick ass, and the standalone movie had been a masterpiece. If Steve had a daughter, he’d have bought her all the Wonder Woman merch there was. 

It was a fairly average day at work—not overly busy but not dead quiet either. They had their regular customers, but there were also several ‘visitors’, people who were just passing by but got lured in by the shiny window display and the promise of awesome stuff.

When Steve got back that night, Bucky was sitting at his laptop, head planted firmly on the table in front of the keyboard. Steve was about to ask if he was okay when Bucky let out a loud snore. Steve couldn’t help it—he started to laugh. Bucky’s head shot up, long hair in the most intense bedhead that Steve had ever seen, and he blinked sleepily.

“Time izzit?” he asked muzzily.

“Five thirty,” Steve replied, unable to keep the amusement from his tone. 

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Shit! Shit shit shit fuck this needs to be done by tomorrow.”

“How many words?”

“A thousand.”

“And how many have you done?”

Bucky looked abashed. “Two hundred?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You work on that. I’ll fix dinner.”

“Okay. Thanks, Steve.” Bucky gave his laptop a determined look, and Steve turned away to hide a smile. Living with Bucky was definitely going to be interesting.

***

That evening, after Bucky had finished his article and the dinner plates had been washed up, they settled together on the sofa. Bucky had expressed an interest in seeing Steve’s portfolio, and Steve was more than happy to oblige. 

As he explained his comic idea to Bucky—a slightly complicated plot involving mutants and monsters—he was all too aware of Bucky’s nearness. Of his long hair brushing against Steve’s shoulder, and his arm pressing against Steve’s own. Steve could smell his aftershave, spicy and dark, and he didn’t realize he’d stopped talking until Bucky poked him on the arm.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Bucky said, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They smiled at each other, and Steve was about to lean in and kiss Bucky when his cellphone rang. “Oh, gotta take this, it’s my boyfriend.”

That brought Steve back down to earth with a bump. He’d forgotten that Bucky had a boyfriend—a guy called Thor who was almost as muscled as Steve himself (and maybe slightly more, although Steve would never admit it). He was a weatherman, although not the kind of weatherman who stood in front of a green screen, no. He was the type of weatherman who they sent out to the far flung reaches of the state, and sometimes the entire country, to report on strange weather fronts. Currently he was in some southern state reporting on tornadoes.

Frankly, he sounded like a douche.

He thought wistfully of Sharon, the woman who up until a few weeks ago he’d thought was _the one_. Until it turned out that he wasn’t the one for her. Her boss Brock was apparently a much more appealing candidate for dating than an unsuccessful artist. He was sure he still loved her, and wondered whether he’d ever be able to win her back.

Steve glanced up at Bucky, who was smiling softly as he spoke to his boyfriend, twirling the ends of a piece of hair around his fingers. He wondered if he’d ever find a feeling like that again.

At that moment his own cellphone rang with Natasha’s ringtone—Guns ‘n’ Roses _Welcome To The Jungle_ , of course—and he smiled before answering.

“Hey, Natasha, how was hiking?”

“It was okay. I put too many rocks in my backpack and overbalanced and fell backwards down a hill, but I didn’t break anything.”

“That’s… good.”

“So when are you having a housewarming party?”

“Uh, we haven’t discussed it,” Steve muttered. He hated parties. 

“Oh come on, Steve. You gotta!”

“We’ll see. I’ll talk to Bucky. You coming over later?”

“Nah, got weapons training tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, later.”

Steve ended the call, laughing. Natasha really was something else.

He turned to Bucky, who was ending his own call with whispered, “Love you”s and was about to ask him if he wanted a drink when there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, there stood Bruce, looking slightly more like a real person now he had washed all the green paint off.

“Bruce!” Steve said enthusiastically, grabbing Bruce’s arm and dragging him inside. “Drink?” 

“Yes please?” Bruce looked confused by how pleased Steve was to see him. Steve could imagine not many people were terribly enthusiastic about seeing him.

He poured three glasses of wine and handed them out. As Steve was about to ask Bruce if he was working on anything new, there was suddenly a scream from upstairs. Then more screaming, yelling, a loud crash, more yelling, and doors slamming before stomping, rushing footsteps could be heard on the stairs. The downstairs door slammed, and they heard a motorbike start up before it screeched away.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, eyes wide.

“Peter,” Bruce said, by way of explanation. When that obviously didn’t help, he continued, “Tony’s son.” Steve’s eyes widened further. Tony had a son? “He’s fifteen, and kind of… difficult.” A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. “That’ll be Tony,” Bruce predicted, and sure enough, when Steve opened the door, there stood Tony. Instead of the usual satin kimono gown, he wore a t-shirt and a long, open cardigan. The ever present glass and cigarette were in his hands, though, and he looked chagrined.

“Helloooo. I, uh, don’t suppose you heard…?” he asked idly, and all three men rushed to reassure him that they’d only heard some footsteps outside. “Teenagers,” Tony added with a sigh. “Ungrateful little shits. He’s got a new boyfriend, so of course everything I say about it is wrong. I don’t know.” He sighed again, and the others endeavored to look sympathetic. “He comes and goes as he pleases, and I try to stop him but it’s not like I can physically restrain the little bastard.”

“Erm, no, I suppose not,” Steve responded.

“Anyway, I suppose it won’t be long now until he flies the nest,” Tony added, looking misty eyed. “You don’t think about that at first—when I adopted him he was just a little thing. Then his other father up and left. Much use he was, anyway. Called himself ‘Vision’ and thought he could fly. Idiot. I think Peter misses him, though.” Tony took a swig of his wine, draining his glass, and held it out to Bucky. “Couldn’t get me a refill, could you? There’s a love. Anyway,” he continued as Bucky refilled his glass, “I’ve done my best for him, and that’s all you can really do, isn’t it?”

There were murmurs of agreement. “More wine, Bruce?” Steve asked a little desperately.

“No thanks,” Bruce mumbled. “I’d better be going.”

Tony eyed him thoughtfully, then sighed. “I should too, and tidy up the mess. Little bastard broke my favorite fucking vase and it’s all over the floor.”

When Bruce and Tony left, Bucky and Steve looked at each other before bursting into fits of giggles. Whatever else, living here was certainly going to be interesting.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

Bucky was feeling determined. He was on a roll. He had completed a whole piece for a magazine, and he needed to write more! 

He bought as many magazines as his small budget could handle, then took the pile home. Steve, who wasn’t working that day, raised an eyebrow.

“They’re for _research_ and _inspiration_ ,” Bucky told him somewhat snidely.

Steve held up his hands. “Okay. Like you bogling yesterday in front of the mirror was for research.”

“It was!” Bucky protested weakly, but Steve had already turned back to the video game he was playing with Natasha. Bucky liked Natasha, he really did, but the fact that she was always heavily armed made him a little nervous.

“So what time is your appointment at the cadets?” Steve asked Natasha. Bucky’s ears pricked up.

“Eleven.”

“You’ll do fine,” Steve said reassuringly. 

Natasha looked at her watch. “Speaking of, I’d better go. Have fun killing zombies without me!”

Bucky waved to Natasha from over his magazines as she left, then sighed. “So I would have assumed that Natasha would already have been in the cadets, given how much she loves weaponry,” he said.

“Eh, she was,” Steve replied as some groaning followed by a splatting noise came from the TV. “While on maneuvers in Florida she stole a tank, intending to invade Orlando. On the way she got distracted by Disney World and ended up being apprehended there. She got kicked out for theft and insubordination.”

“Oh,” Bucky said weakly. “Oh, by the way, let’s have our housewarming party tonight!”

“Tonight?” Steve gave him a strange look. “We can’t have it tonight, it’s too short notice.”

Bucky waved a dismissive hand. “It’ll be fine! If we invite them, they will come.”

“Um. Okay? I still think it’s a bad—“

“Shhhhhh,” Bucky interrupted, putting his finger to Steve’s lips. “ _They will come_.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “Okay, well, I’ll call round my friends and you call round yours, and we’ll see who’s able to come tonight.”

Bucky beamed at him.

***

Turned out, no-one could come that night. Most of Steve’s friends were at comic conventions all over the country, or working, or both, and most of the people Bucky knew were still in the squat and didn’t ever answer their phones. The only people who’d agreed to come were Natasha, Bucky’s best friend Clint, Bruce from downstairs and. Well. That was it really.

They debated inviting Tony, but Bucky reasoned that they had to for two reasons: one, if they were making a lot of noise and he wasn’t invited he might kick them out, and two it would probably hurt his feelings if they didn’t. Steve reluctantly agreed, and went up to invite him.

When Steve came back in, he flopped down on the sofa. “He’s coming. Apparently Peter is having a party of his own tonight with all his teenager friends and Tony will be glad to have somewhere that isn’t his bedroom to hang out.”

“That’s nice,” Bucky said, smiling. “Ooooh, I’d better get things ready!”

He went to the store and bought more wine, along with some chips and dip, and made a mini glitterball out of kitchen foil and an old baseball. Steve raised his eyebrows at that, but said nothing. 

Bruce arrived first, at seven on the dot. Steve and Bucky looked at him in confusion as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Bruce, what are you doing here?” Bucky asked slowly.

“You said seven,” Bruce replied, thrusting a bottle of red wine into Bucky’s hands.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you turn up at… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Since you’re here you can help put out the chips and dip. There’s a bowl there for the chips.”

Bruce nodded, and began opening the packets of chips. 

They made awkward small talk for a while, until Natasha arrived. She narrowed her eyes at Bruce.

“Identify yourself.”

“Um, I’m Bruce. Banner. I live downstairs.” Bruce looked half terrified, and Bucky couldn’t blame him.

Natasha stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” she said simply, and flopped on the chair, legs draped over the arm.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang again. Natasha’s hand went to her gun holster, but Steve shook his head. “Stand down,” he said quietly, and Natasha nodded, still keeping an eye on the door.

As soon as Bucky opened it, he squealed, and Clint squealed back, hugging him. “Bucky! You’re looking well. And you’re wearing your hair in a bun tonight instead of around your face? Very daring. Chubby cheeks are in this season.” Bucky touched his cheeks self consciously as Clint breezed past, smiling widely. “Hello everybody!”

“Clint,” Bucky began, “this is Steve, and his best friend Natasha, and this is our neighbor, Bruce. Everyone, this is my best friend Clint.” He saw Bruce look confused, and cursed inwardly. They were supposed to be an established couple, so obviously their best friends should know each other. “Drink, Clint?” he said quickly, hoping to cover his discomfort.

“Oh, no, I’ll just have a water, thanks. I’m on the five-two diet, and today is a fast day.” Bucky smiled wanly as Clint made himself comfortable next to Bruce. “So, Bruce, tell me about yourself.”

“I’m an artist.”

“Oooh, lovely. Do you paint? What do you paint?”

“Uh, anger, mostly.”

“Really! Are you angry a lot, then?”

“I’m always angry.”

Clint nodded sagely. “I know _exactly_ what you mean.” He took his glass of water from Bucky and took a sip as Bruce looked at him, wide eyed. “I’m in fashion, myself.”

Bucky hid a smirk. While Clint had high aspirations, he actually worked at a launderette.

“Uh, where should we put the coats, Bucky, your room or mine?” Steve asked, loud enough that Bruce looked at them strangely. Steve noticed where Bucky was looking and swallowed hard.

“He snores,” Steve and Bucky said simultaneously, before laughing self consciously.

There was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Steve said quickly.

“Helloooo,” came Tony’s voice from the doorway, and Bruce visibly tensed. “It’s your annoying landlord, come to crash the party.”

“Come in, Tony,” Steve said warmly. “Drink?”

“I’ll have a red please, kitten. Hello, everybody. Hello, Bruce.” Bruce nodded uncomfortably. “Where will I put my jacket?”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other in fear, until Bruce stood up. “Don’t worry,” he said firmly. “I’ll put it in _Steve and Bucky’s_ room.”

When Tony turned away, Bruce winked at both of them, taking Tony’s jacket into Steve’s room.

The party, Bucky had to admit, was not an unmitigated success. Natasha spent a great deal of time unnecessarily ‘securing the area’, and Clint spent his time flirting with Bruce while Tony shot them both daggers.

Their own music was being drowned out by the party going on upstairs, and eventually they just gave up and listened to the heavy bass shuddering through the walls and floor from above.

But as Bucky looked around the room—at Tony passed out in a heap on the sofa, at Clint and Bruce getting on so well that Bucky could practically see the sparks flying between them, at Steve and Natasha toasting the fact she was back in the cadets—he felt a strong sense of contentment. After all, it could always be worse.

When everyone left—except for Tony, who was still unconscious and snoring loudly—Steve turned to Bucky and grinned.

“I think that went pretty well, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, smiling. “Yeah, I do.”


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

To celebrate Natasha being accepted back into the cadets, Steve decided to take them both to paintball, combining Natasha’s love of arms with her love of combat situations, without it getting too… scary. Steve loved Natasha, but had a healthy respect for her abilities, too.

As they got divided into their teams, Steve looked up to see a familiar face approaching and narrowed his eyes.

“Steven,” Brock said smugly. “Good to see you. I hope that what happened with Sharon won’t affect things today—we are, after all, on the same team.”

“Fuck you,” Steve spat. “You stole my girlfriend!”

Brock smirked. “Well. I guess I’ll see you out there.”

“Yeah, I guess you will,” Steve said through gritted teeth,

As Brock walked away, Natasha tapped his shoulder. “Why didn’t you eviscerate him with your stunning wit?” she asked dryly.

“It would have been too much for him to handle. Besides,” Steve added, somewhat more truthfully, “I couldn’t think of anything.”

“Want me to kill him and make it look like an accident?”

Steve considered this option for a moment, before shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” Natasha said, pulling her goggles down over her eyes and readying her gun. “Offer stands if you change your mind.”

Steve nodded and followed the crowd as they trooped into the wooded area, ready to start.

It was carnage.

Natasha was like a wild thing, shooting everyone in sight who wasn’t on their team (and some people who were), and ripping her way through the opposition’s defenses. Steve did a pretty good job all told—it was fun, and just what he needed to take his mind off—

“Steven. We meet again.”

_Fuck_.

“Bad idea to let your guard down in a place like this,” Brock said, his tone carefully idle. Steve knew what he was going to do the second before they did it, and he aimed at the same time as Brock, both of them going to fire at the same time… but neither of them hit the other. Both of them were out of ammo. 

“Oh, Steven. This was always your problem,” Brock said slowly. “You never thought ahead.” He took another canister out of his pocket and screwed it onto the gun. As he took aim, Steve shut his eyes and braced himself—

—when a woman’s voice shouted, “Noooooo!” and Natasha jumped in front of him as Brock fired, splatting her front in paint. Steve grabbed Natasha’s gun and fired before Brock could regroup, hitting him square in the groin.

As Brock lay on the ground a few feet away, writhing in agony, Steve dropped to his knees beside Natasha who lay unmoving on the ground. He held her close to his chest and shook her gently. “Natasha? Nat?”

Natasha blinked her eyes open. “Steve,” she said hoarsely. “Steve, it’s getting dark.”

“Hold on, Natasha,” Steve begged. “Help will be coming!”

“It’s… there’s a bright light, Steve,” she managed, before coughing, yellow paint burbling from between her lips. “I don’t think I can hold on anymore… I don’t think I…”

Her head fell to the side, and Steve threw his head back, howling, “Noooo!” at the sky through his tears.

***

“That was fun,” Natasha said as they walked away from the paintballing grounds, arm in arm with Steve.

“It definitely had its moments. We should do it again soon.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“So,” Steve said, looking at the sky and blinking at the sight of rain clouds racing overhead, “back to mine for some video games?”

“You’re on.”

***

When they arrived back at the apartment, Bucky was sitting on the sofa, watching _Notting Hill_ and eating a pint of ice cream. Tears stained his face as he mouthed along with the dialogue.

“Bucky?” Steve said softly, and Bucky looked up at him, lower lip wobbling, before launching himself at Steve and sobbing on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay! What’s wrong?” he asked, shooting a helpless look at Natasha over the top of Bucky’s head.

“Thor broke up with me,” Bucky wailed, and Steve’s eyes widened.

“Okay, Bucky, I’m really sorry, but can you keep it down so Tony doesn’t hear you and throw us out?”

“S-sorry,” Bucky said, sniffing. “I just can’t believe it! After two years he just breaks up with me. I think he’s found someone else. He kept talking about some camera operator called Sif. He’s probably with her right no-ow.” Bucky dissolved into tears again, and Steve patted him awkwardly on the back.

“Come on. I think you need a—”

“Cat?”

“Well, I was going to say a drink?”

“Please can we get a cat?” Bucky begged. “It would really help mend my broken heart,” he finished, dramatically clutching his chest.

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly. “I’m not terribly keen on cats. I had some bad experiences as a kid.”

“Our cat will be great! Oh please, Steve? If Tony says we can?” Bucky was looking at him pleadingly, and Steve’s heart melted.

“Fine. But you have to get one from a shelter. Adopt, don’t shop.”

“Ohmygod _thank you_!” Bucky babbled, flinging his arms around Steve’s neck and kissing him wetly on the cheek. Steve thought he’d managed to hide his blush until he saw Natasha’s amused look. “Do you want to come help me pick one out?”

Steve shook his head. “Why don’t you take Clint? He’ll help you pick out a good one.”

Bucky looked doubtful, but nodded. “Okay. I’ll go ask Tony if it’s okay now. Thanks, Steve. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Bucky left to go up to Tony’s apartment, and Natasha raised her eyebrow at Steve. “You hate cats. You’ve always hated cats. Ever since that group ganged up on you and chased you down the street because you had a hotdog in your hand.”

“Yeah, but I was a kid then. This will be a well behaved cat, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’re so whipped. Okay, we gonna play video games or what?”

Steve switched on the XBox.

***

Apparently there were various checks the shelter had to do before you were allowed to adopt a cat from there, so while they were waiting on an appointment, Steve enjoyed his last few cat-free days. CapCom had just released a new Resident Evil game, and he was spending all his free time playing it. And that meant _all_ his free time. He refused to sleep—who needed sleep?—and kept himself awake with as many triple espressos as he could consume without having a heart attack. 

He’d picked up some strong arabica at the store, but he was too busy knocking them back to savor the deep, rich flavor. It was amazing, though—his reflexes were sharper than they had ever been, and he was powering through the game. 

It was all going fine until he heard a noise behind him and whipped around to see a zombie standing there, groaning. He shrieked and grabbed his shotgun, aiming at the zombie’s head and firing. 

“Steve?” the zombie said, and Steve blinked as the zombie morphed into Bucky, who was rubbing his eyes. “You still playing that?”

Steve looked down at his shotgun, realizing that it was actually his controller. “Uh, yeah. Been on the triple espressos all night. What time is it?”

“Eight? I’ve got that interview for that men’s magazine tomorrow and Clint is taking me clothes shopping so I have something ‘interview appropriate’.”

“Oh yeah. What’s it called again?”

“Sacks.”

“Right.”

“What are your plans? Do you not think you should maybe get some sleep?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m fine. I just want to get this finished.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Bucky shook his head and went into the bathroom, and Steve turned back to his game, shooting a zombie directly in the face.

Steve lost track of time as he played, until there was a sudden knock at the door, making him jump. He paused the game and got up, stretching out his stiff muscles before answering. There stood Bruce, looking even more morose than usual.

“Hi,” Bruce said quietly.

“Um, hi. Is everything okay?”

Bruce shook his head, and handed Steve a card. It was blank, except for one word.

_Come_.

“Oh-kaaaay?” Steve looked searchingly at Bruce. “And this is what, exactly?”

“An invitation.”

“To what?”

“My old artistic partner, Thaddeus Ross. He has a show on and he wants me to come.”

“That’s nice.”

“Is it, Steve? _Is it_?”

“Well. I mean. Isn’t it nice to see an old friend?” Steve asked, confused.

Bruce shook his head. “Old friend doesn’t cover it. We were—”

“Fucking?”

“— _platonic lovers_. We used to make performance art together. It was genre defying, transcendental… Until he decided I wasn’t good enough any more and began to perform with his _protegé_. Calls himself the Hobbit. Looks like one too,” he finished thoughtfully, with a hint of malice. “His real name is Everett Ross. No relation.”

“Okay. So, um, it’s not so nice that he’s invited you to his show?”

“No. No, he has an ulterior motive, if only to show me how well he’s doing without me.”

“So you’re not going to go?”

Bruce looked at Steve like he was crazy. “Of course I’m going to go. As if I could resist his allure…” Bruce stared off into space until Steve felt slightly uncomfortable, then whipped his gaze to Steve. “Will you come with me?”

Steve felt a moment of panic. “Uh, nah.”

“Oh. Are you busy?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I just… don’t want to go. Performance art isn’t really my thing.”

“Oh.”

“But you have a good time!”

“Thanks,” Bruce said dolefully, before leaving. Steve shook his head and went back to his game.

***

Steve spent the next couple of hours killing zombies, and he was facing down a horde when the next thing he knew, the door was opening and Bucky was trudging in. Steve looked at the screen, which was loudly proclaiming, “YOU DIED. CONTINUE YES/NO”. He wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and yawned, before looking at his watch.

He’d slept for a whole ten minutes.

“How did your shopping trip go?” he asked as he got up to get another triple espresso.

Bucky threw himself down on the sofa. “Terrible. I have clothes that Clint tells me are trendy but I feel like I look like an idiot in them. So what’s been happening here?”

“Not a lot. Oh, Bruce came up. Apparently his ex-platonic-lover-artistic-partner is doing a performance art show tonight or something.”

“Oooh, that sounds like it could be fun!”

“No it doesn’t. Anyway I told him I wasn’t going.”

Bucky looked at Steve, frowning. “Why the hell not?”

Steve sighed. “Because performance art is pretentious and masturbatory?” Bucky gave him a stern look. “What? Okay, fine, fine, I’ll tell Bruce we’re going. But I’m not happy about it.”

“We need to support our friends, Steve,” Bucky said seriously. 

Steve looked at Bucky incredulously. “We’ve known him about a week?”

“Well,” Bucky said quietly, “we’ve only known each other about two weeks. Are you saying you wouldn’t support me?”

Bucky had him there. “No, of course I would.”

“Well, then. Go tell him we’ll go with him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and downed another triple espresso before heading down to give Bruce the good news. When Bruce opened the door, he was wearing a green, check patterned three piece suit and green newsboy cap. He looked ridiculous.

“Bruce,” Steve asked, barely able to believe his eyes. “What?”

“Are you going to come after all?” Bruce asked, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, under protest. I just think these things are always a bit pretentious.”

“Oh.” Bruce gestured to his outfit. “How do I look?”

“A bit pretentious.”

“Oh. Do you think I should lose the waistcoat?”

Steve stared. “No, I think you should burn it, because if you lose it you might, you know, find it again.”

“Oh.”

Steve sighed. “Come on, then. Come upstairs and have a drink with us to calm your nerves.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said gratefully, following Steve upstairs.

As they walked in, Bucky was already setting out the glasses. “Aww, Bruce, don’t you look nice?” he said brightly, and Steve grimaced. “Drink?”

Bruce nodded, but Steve shook his head. “I’ll stick to the espresso, thanks. I think if I stop drinking it I’ll fall asleep.”

“Don’t drink so much coffee. It’s not good for your nerves,” Bucky scolded Steve, taking a sip of his own wine. 

There was a knock on the door, and the three of them looked at each other in panic. “We can’t not answer,” Steve whispered.

Bucky groaned quietly, and got up to answer it. Sure enough, Tony stood on the other side. “Helloooo,” he greeted them, before taking in Bruce’s outfit. “Going out?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied, smiling, “Bruce is taking us to a show.”

“Really, Bruce?” It was impossible to mistake the hopeful tone in his voice. He was trying to catch Bruce’s eye, but Bruce was staring steadfastly at his wine.

Bucky broke first. “You can come with us if you want?” he said desperately.

Tony beamed. “I’ll go get my coat!”

When the door was closed behind him, Steve gave Bucky a despairing look. 

“Well what else was I supposed to say?” Bucky asked in an angry whisper. “We couldn’t very well leave him out!”

“I guess,” Steve said grudgingly. “Well, you can sit next to him since you invited him.”

“Fine,” Bucky retorted, pouting. “I will, then.”

Tony in tow, they took a cab to the theater. As Steve had predicted, it was both self indulgent and pretentious, as well as being completely ridiculous crap. But when he looked over at Bruce, the artist had tears in his eyes. _Each to their own_ , Steve thought to himself amusedly as the show finished and the audience erupted into thunderous applause. 

There was an after party in the theater bar, and as soon as they were in, Steve grabbed a handful of peanut M&Ms from the bowl at the bar and downed a glass of red wine as a chaser. He was alternating between sipping from his second glass and eating more M&Ms when he saw Bruce approach Thaddeus. From the look on Bruce’s face, it wasn’t going well. He was about to go and rescue Bruce when suddenly Thaddeus turned into a zombie!

Steve wasted no time. Thaddeus-zombie was leaning in to bite Bruce, and Steve couldn’t let his friend be zombified if he could help it. He grabbed the zombie’s shoulder and whirled him around before punching him hard in the face. The zombie dropped to the floor, and Steve sighed with relief—until he realized that most of the surrounding people had also turned.

He grabbed Bruce’s arm and ran for the door, collecting Bucky and Tony on the way, pulling them all out into the warm night air and frantically hailing a cab.

“That was amazing!” Bruce was saying gleefully as Steve bundled him into the back of the cab. “The way you just… boom! Brilliant! I couldn’t have done that, but you!”

“My pleasure,” Steve slurred, and promptly passed out on Bucky’s shoulder.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

The following morning, Bucky wandered through to the living area as Steve was waking up on the sofa. Bucky and Bruce had carried him as far as they could, but Steve was packing a lot of muscle and was actually really heavy. 

“Feeling any better?” Bucky asked.

“Did I really punch out a zombie last night?” Steve asked blearily.

“No, you punched out a performance artist who by all accounts was a complete dick to Bruce. You thought he was a zombie?” Bucky shook his head. “You really need to unplug for a while.”

“I think it was all the espresso. Arabica has a bad effect on me. Plus, I’m pretty sure there were yellow M&Ms in the handfuls I ate, and they make me kinda loopy.”

“Kinda?” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s an understatement. Anyway, what do you think of my outfit?”

He twirled around, and Steve whistled. “You look great. The job is yours for sure.”

“Thanks!” Bucky said, delighted. “Not too much? Not trying too hard?”

“Nope, it’s perfect.”

“Aww, thanks, Steve. Well, wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Steve called from the sofa as Bucky left. 

As soon as he was out in the street, he squared his shoulders and straightened up. He had to look like he was already a successful journalist, confident in his own abilities. In reality, of course, he was quaking in his stylish yet affordable shoes.

When he got out the cab at the _Sacks_ magazine headquarters, he took a deep breath. This was it. This was his chance at a big break. He strode forward towards the open front door—

—and promptly smacked into the glass of the ridiculously clean glass door. He cleared his throat, smoothing down his outfit and looking around to see if anyone had seen him. It didn’t seem like anyone had, so he carefully opened the door and headed inside. 

His leg bounced nervously as he waited in reception to be called in. Another man, sharply dressed and handsome, gave him a look and Bucky held himself still, taking deep breaths. He could do this. He could.

The interview was an unmitigated disaster.

He could tell the three interviewers—Barry, Larry, and Harry—weren’t quite as impressed with his resumé as he’d hoped they would be, and began to wonder why they’d brought him in for an interview in the first place. 

“We saw the photograph you sent with your resumé, and we think you look like you could be a good fit for the look the magazine is trying to go for,” Larry, the most intimidating one, said, and Bucky tried not to look disappointed. So they only brought him in because of how he looked? “What do you think you can bring to the magazine?”

“Well, um, I like to think I have my finger on the pulse of the city,” Bucky began. “In fact, last night I attended a performance art show with two artists. I also always make sure I do proper research for an article, not just using Wikipedia!” He laughed, a little too loudly, but his laugh petered out when the three interviewers remained stony faced. “I, um…”

“Tell me, Bucky,” Harry said, leaning forward. “Just how in touch with the modern man are you? For example, do you drink beer or wine on a night out?”

Was this a trick question? “Um, both? Either? Depends on my mood, I suppose.”

The three men exchanged a look that had Bucky’s heart sinking into his boots. “Well, thank you, Bucky,” Barry said. “We’ll be in touch.” As Bucky stood, ready to thank them for their time, Barry added, “So how do you think this interview went?”

Before Bucky could think about it, he was sticking his thumbs up. “I think I was _winning_ , just like Charlie Sheen,” he blurted out, before hiding a wince. The three men looked at him like he’d just grown a second head. “Ummm… okay! Thank you for your time, bye!”

Bucky beat as hasty a retreat as he could without actually physically running away, and as soon as he was out of the building, he took a deep breath. Fuck.

***

When he arrived back at the apartment, Steve was sitting in front of the TV playing Dead Space. He turned to Bucky, smiling until he saw the look on Bucky’s face.

“Ah. Do I need to ask how it went?”

Bucky flopped onto the sofa and sprawled in a way he hoped translated to ‘distressed’. “It was a nightmare. They hated me from the start—apparently they only even brought me in for an interview because they liked my looks; they couldn’t have cared less about my resumé—and then…” Bucky trailed off. 

“And then?”

“I said I was ‘winning, like Charlie Sheen’.”

Bucky could tell Steve was trying desperately not to laugh. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. I mean, what the fuck? I hated that meme when it was new; why did I say that?”

“You never know,” Steve said soothingly. “They might have thought you were quirky!”

“Yeah, I doubt it.” Bucky sighed. At that moment, his cell began to ring. He looked excitedly at Steve. 

“Quick, answer it!” 

“Hello?” Bucky answered quickly, but his face fell when he heard the female voice at the other end of the line.

_“Mr Barnes? It’s Judy from the shelter. We were wondering if we could do the apartment check tomorrow, and if everything is okay, then you can come back with us to the shelter and choose a cat.”_

“Um, yeah, tomorrow is great. What time?”

_“Two p.m.?”_

“Yeah, that’s fine. Okay, thank you! See you then.” Bucky ended the call and sighed. “That was the shelter. They’re gonna do the apartment check tomorrow at two, and then if everything is okay they’ll let me go back with them and choose a cat.”

Steve got up and sat beside Bucky on the sofa, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “That’s great, though, right? Come on, we’d better go get some kitty stuff.”

Bucky looked at Steve, affection welling in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile. “Can’t have the kitty come home with us unprepared.”

Bucky pulled Steve into a bear hug. “Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

They went to the pet store and pretty much bought out the whole cat toy section, as well as buying a litter box, litter, food, a bowl for food and one for water, a carrier, and some kitty treats. When they got back to the apartment, Bucky set everything up and hugged Steve again.

“I know you don’t like cats much,” he said softly, “so thank you for this.”

Steve looked a little uncomfortable. “Eh, it’s fine. If it cheers you up, that’s what’s important. Besides, it’ll be company for me on days when I’m not working and you are.”

Bucky’s lower lip wobbled. “You are the best friend ever, Steve.”

Steve’s expression tightened, but he smiled. “Yeah, I kinda am.”

***

The apartment inspection went great the next day. The people from the shelter were pleased to see all the toys and things around. “Looks like you’re all ready to adopt!” Judy said, smiling. 

They went back to the shelter and Bucky and Steve wandered around the cages, looking at the different cats until one caught Bucky’s eye. He was a large, ginger tabby, and his one eye was a bright green. He mewed when Bucky approached, pressing his face against the bars of the cage until Bucky petted him, at which point he began to purr like a motor. 

Judy looked surprised. “That’s so weird. He’s never done that before—usually he’s pretty grouchy.”

“Grouchy?” Bucky asked distractedly as he continued to scritch the cat’s head.

“Yeah, like… the kind of grouchy that involves claws.”

“But he’s such a good kitty!” Bucky cooed. “Steve, pet him!”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Steve said, looking uncomfortable. 

Bucky gave him a look. “Pet. Him.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but poked his fingers through the bars. The cat sniffed Steve’s fingers, then rubbed his head against them, purring. Steve raised his eyebrows at Bucky, and Bucky looked at Judy.

“We’ll take him.”

The paperwork took about five minutes to fill in, and soon Bucky and Steve were leaving the shelter, their new cat Chester in tow in his carry box. He settled into the apartment straight away, as if he’d always lived there, and he especially loved the laser pointer and the stick with the feather on the end. 

Bucky quickly discovered that the kitty liked to play fetch, and had hours of fun—when he should have been working—throwing a cat toy instead.

Steve was still a little wary of him, and Bucky sighed as Steve came into the room, eyeing the cat. 

“Steve,” Bucky said impatiently, “you have to get used to Colonel Phillips at some point. He’s part of the family now.”

Steve gave Bucky a confused look. “I thought his name was just Chester?”

“He got promoted, okay?”

“Um, okay.” Steve sat on the sofa and Colonel Phillips immediately jumped on beside him, rubbing against him and purring. Bucky watched, amused, as Steve carefully petted the ginger beast. “Oh, by the way, I saw Bruce earlier,” Steve said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He said he wanted to learn anger management, so I suggested he kill zombies with me, since that always works for me. So he’s coming up later and we’re gonna play Resident Evil for a couple of hours. I call it ‘interactive visual therapy’.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh? Well, good luck with that.”

There was a knock at the door, and they looked at each other. Steve went to answer it, and grinned when he saw who it was. “Luis!”

Bucky looked up as Steve led an unfamiliar man into the apartment. 

“Hello,” Bucky said politely.

“Bucky, this is Luis. He’s the best delivery guy in Brooklyn. How are you doing, man?”

“Aww, Steve, I’m great, man! Sorry I haven’t visited your new place before, but me, I’ve been so busy with my work and other projects and shit, you know? By the way, do you know anyone who wants a smoothie machine?”

“Smoothie machine?” Bucky asked, nonplussed, but Steve shook his head.

“Don’t ask. I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone, Luis. So how’s the delivery business?”

“Oh man, okay, so I’m on this delivery the other day, right, and it’s for my friend Vlad’s mother’s brother’s best friend’s son, okay? And Vlad is like, so Sherry tells him that Cherise told her that her boyfriend told her that this guy is wack, you know what I’m saying? But anyway I took the job because it’s a job and you can’t always pick and choose, right? So I’m riding around and this box is strapped in on the seat next to me because it’s ‘fragile’ and man I don’t want it to be like the time with the raspberry jelly because that took me a week to clean my van after that…”

“The job?” Steve reminded him, and Luis nodded.

“So I’m sitting at a stop light and the box starts _moving_ , man, and I’m freaking out and suddenly it starts to make the weirdest fucking noises, like hissing and screaming or some shit, so I pull over into a parking garage and I call Vlad like ‘What the fuck am I carrying?’ And Vlad tells me he doesn’t know but he’ll speak to his mother’s brother’s best friend’s son. He calls me back like two minutes later and tells me that the guy told him that it’s just some books and I’m like, bullshit, that ain’t no books, books don’t make those weird ass noises. Then I notice that the box has, like, air holes so I shine a light inside and these little eyes look back at me.”

By now, Bucky’s chest was aching from trying not to laugh, and he could tell that Steve was having the same problem. But somehow Steve managed to choke out, “Go on,” which was all the encouragement that Luis needed.

“So anyways I’m freaking the fuck out but this guy is only five minutes away, right, so I drive to the guy’s place and he looks shady as fuck, but he pays me and takes the box, and I get in my van and I’m watching through the window and he opens the box— _and out comes two fucking raccoons!_ ”

Bucky couldn’t help it—he began to giggle uncontrollably. “Raccoons?”

Luis nodded. “He had me carrying raccoons! What if they’d had rabies or some shit? So anyway that’s the last time I do a delivery for that guy.”

“I don’t blame you,” Steve managed through choked chortling.

“So hey, how’s Natasha these days? Saw her on the news, though I didn’t catch what it was for.”

“Oh, the other day? That was a case of mistaken identity.”

“Nah, nah, this was about two months ago.”

“Oh, yeah, that was her,” Steve said, and Bucky raised an eyebrow. Before he could ask, though, his phone buzzed with a text. His face fell when he read it. 

“What’s up?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t get the job. They’ve decided to go ‘in a different direction’.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Luis said comfortably. “Hey, to cheer you up, you guys wanna come clubbing tonight?”

“I don’t know, Luis, we’re both pretty strapped for cash right now,” Steve said slowly. 

Luis waved a hand. “I know the doorman. I can get you in for free. Bring Natasha too—that is one fine looking lady but I have a healthy respect for her, you know what I’m saying?”

“Also she could kill you in five seconds if you looked at her wrong.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“Can I bring my friend Clint, too?” Bucky asked, feeling quite excited about the prospect of getting out the apartment for some fun.

“Sure, the more the merrier, right?” Luis grinned at him. “Bring whoever you like! Man, this is gonna be awesome.” He looked at his watch. “Shit, I gotta go, but I’ll come over at nine and we’ll get a cab from here, ‘kay?”

When Luis left, Bucky laughed. “Looks like we’re going clubbing!”

“Looks like.”

“Okay, I’m gonna take out the trash. Look after Colonel Phillips while I’m gone!” Steve grimaced as Bucky tied off the trash bag and took it downstairs. As he went out, Bruce was just coming back in. “Hey, Bruce! How’s it going?”

Bruce shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“We’re going out clubbing tonight,” Bucky told him. “You should come with us!”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t go clubbing. I had a bad experience once when I was at a club.”

“Oh no,” Bucky said sympathetically. “What happened?”

“About five years ago I was at a club and I accidentally spilled my drink on a guy, whose fist then collided with my face. Next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor, covered in beer, and I had a concussion. Never again.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce,” Bucky said soothingly. “That won’t happen again. You know lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place!”

“Actually—” Bruce began, but Bucky quickly cut him off.

“Anyway, we’re leaving at nine, so we’ll see you there!” He went out the door and rolled his eyes when he heard Bruce’s door shut. That guy was hard work.

***

By nine p.m., everyone was ready and waiting for Luis. Bucky was amused to note that Bruce and Clint were eyeing each other surreptitiously, and wondered if either of them would ever make a move.

At 9.30, Luis finally arrived. “Sorry I’m late, guys, but the weirdest thing happened to me on the way over here…”

Sensing that another epic tale was forthcoming, Bucky said somewhat desperately, “Shall we go get a cab, then?”

Luis grinned. “Hell yeah, man! Let’s get this show on the road!”

There were too many of them for one cab, so Bucky found himself riding with Steve and Natasha. They were mostly silent for the drive there—Bucky could only imagine how talkative Luis was being with Clint and Bruce—and when they arrived, Luis spoke quickly to the doorman and they all piled inside ahead of the long line waiting to get in. 

It was noisy in the club, and Bucky went straight to the bar. After downing four shots of vodka with Steve and Luis, however, he began to relax a little, acclimatizing to the noise. He sipped his cocktail—Luis had ordered it and told him not to ask what was in it—and bobbed his head in time with the music. It wasn’t necessarily his kind of thing, but it had a good beat and you could dance to it.

A few (Bucky had lost count of exactly how many) cocktails later, he was sitting on a large plush sofa at the back of the club, laughing with Steve hard enough that he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“D’you know what?” Bucky slurred. “I’m really glad I met you, Steve. Like, really, really glad. You’re definitely one of my best friends now.”

“No, Buck, you’re like… one of my best friends too. I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for like a few weeks. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Yeah! I feel like that too, like we’ve always known each other. Like, we’re on the same wavelength, you know? Or maybe we knew each other in a previous life and this is, like, our souls recognizing each other.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Shit, Buck, you’re so right! I bet we have known each other before. How else can you explain this?”

“I love you so much, Steve,” Bucky said blurrily.

“I love you too, Buck,” Steve replied, something soft in his eyes. Something shifted for Bucky in that moment, and he realized how close their mouths were. He’d only need to lean in slightly to kiss Steve.

Bucky wondered how Steve would taste after so many sweet cocktails.

“Hey, guys!” Bucky’s head shot up as Luis flopped onto the sofa next to Steve. “Havin’ fun?”

“Yeah!” Steve replied, and Bucky nodded, trying not to resent Luis for his timing.

“I’m having too much fun to sit this dance out. You two should join us! Everyone else is out there!”

“Really?” Bucky looked out onto the dance floor and, sure enough, Natasha was bouncing around with Bruce and Clint. “Well… I guess we can’t let everyone down!”

“Damn straight!” Luis grabbed one of Bucky’s hands and one of Steve’s and pulled them up off of the sofa, into the crowd. They all began to dance together, and Bucky realized he was genuinely enjoying himself. The atmosphere was amazing, and his friends were around him.

At that moment, a dance remix of the theme tune to _The A Team_ came on. A very drunk Natasha in a green crop top, combat trousers and heavy boots, head topped with a jester’s hat, climbed up on the podium and began to dance—or, well, mime using different weapons in time with the music. The crowd quickly caught on and joined in. Bucky and Steve looked at each other, laughed, and began to follow Natasha’s lead. She looked like she was having the time of her life. When the track finished, the crowd cheered, and Natasha stage dived off of the podium into the waiting hands of her adoring public. 

As they danced, Bruce knocked a drink out of a heavily built, rather muscled man. Bruce’s eyes widened, and Bucky got ready to save him, remembering Bruce’s story of the last time he’d been clubbing. But instead of punching him, the man laughed and hugged Bruce, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bouncing around with him. 

When they got back that night, they ate a large pizza between them, then Bucky yawned, looking at his watch. 

“Fuck,” he said, laughing. “It’s four a.m.”

“Is it?” Steve asked, looking as surprised as Bucky felt. “Shit, time for bed.”

They looked at each other, and Bucky thought he could feel electricity sparking between them. But Steve just smiled at him. “Goodnight, Buck.”

Bucky tried to tamp down his disappointment. “Goodnight, Steve,” he replied, heading into his own bedroom. When sleep finally came to him, if he dreamed, he didn’t remember.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 6

Steve slid onto the bar stool next to the handsome stranger, ordering a drink. “Come here often?” he murmured to the man, but when the man turned around, he realized it was Bucky.

“Only when I’m looking for company,” Bucky said, his tone sultry.

Steve suddenly realized what he wanted—what he had wanted for a while now—and leaned in to kiss Bucky, who was already leaning towards him…

Steve’s eyes flew open at the sound of his alarm, and he cursed, then laughed to himself. He clearly needed to get laid if he was dreaming that kind of thing about his roommate. He didn’t even feel that way about Bucky. He couldn’t. He was still in love with Sharon.

Bucky was his friend. One of his best friends, now. But nothing else. Besides, even if he did feel that way, Bucky probably didn’t even think of Steve like that.

Steve groaned and scrubbed at his face with his hands, before rolling out of bed. It was going to be a shit day, he could already tell.

Bucky was already at the kitchen table, laptop in front of him, frowning at the screen. “You’re up early,” Steve said through a yawn.

Bucky shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get up and be productive.”

“And how is that going for you?”

“Writing is hard,” Bucky replied mournfully.

As he wandered towards the bathroom, his phone began to chime. He looked at the caller ID and swallowed hard. “It’s Sharon,” he told Bucky, before answering.

“Hello?”

“ _Hi, Steve. Is now a bad time?_ ”

“Uh, no! No, it’s fine.”

“ _I was wondering if we could meet up this evening? There are some things that need to be said._ ”

“Yeah, sure! There’s a bar just around the corner from me, not too busy.” He gave her the name and street, and she agreed to meet him there before ending the call.

When Steve glanced up, Bucky was giving him a strange look. “What?”

“So you’re just going to meet up with her? After what she did to you?” Bucky asked, and Steve suddenly realized that Bucky was angry.

“Bucky, she’s the love of my life. I can forgive her if she’ll take me back.”

“Right. Because that’ll go well. And when she cheats on you again? If you move out, you won’t be able to move back in because we’ll lose this place.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “And that’s what you’re so concerned about, isn’t it? Yourself. Your only concern is if I leave, you might have to as well. I’m moving on with my life while you’re just stuck in the same old rut. You don’t even write! You keep saying you want to be a journalist, but you’re never at your laptop! You’re always making excuses. Well excuse me if I want something more.”

He looked at Bucky, and suddenly wished he could take it all back. Bucky had gone white, and was shaking, although with anger or some other emotion Steve couldn’t tell. 

“So that’s really what you think of me, is it?” Bucky said quietly. “You really think I’m so fucking shallow that… I was concerned for my friend, Steve. That’s you, by the way,” he added snidely, “although after this I’m not so sure I can call you that any more. But fine. If you want to get your heart broken and stepped on again, I can’t stop you.”

Bucky pushed past him and went into his own bedroom, slamming the door behind him, and Steve squeezed his eyes closed. Fuck.

He got ready and went to work. Bucky still hadn’t emerged by the time he left, and he considered knocking on his door but thought the better of it. Better to give him some space and apologize later.

The day was a blur. He sold some comics and merch, and made conversation with Sam, but Sam wasn’t fooled. Around the middle of the day, Sam took him aside.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I’m not just your boss, I’m your friend.”

Steve sighed. “I know. Bucky and I had a big fight and I said some things I’m really not proud of, like really hurtful things. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me for some of them. I really screwed up.”

Sam shrugged. “All you can do is apologize when you go home tonight.”

“That’s the thing, I’m not going straight home. I’m going to meet Sharon, because I think she might want me back.”

“And this was what caused the argument?”

“Yeah. Bucky thinks I’m just setting myself up to get my heart broken again.”

“Well, I mean, aren’t you?” Steve looked at Sam in surprise. “Come on, man. When someone screws you over so spectacularly once, they'll have no problems doing it again. No good can come from this.”

“But I love her,” Steve said helplessly.

“Do you? Or do you love the idea of what you two had together?”

Steve blinked. “I maybe need to have a long think about this,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, you do that. Because this isn’t a decision you want to make lightly,” Sam said.

Steve went straight from work to the bar, still not wanting to go back to the apartment and potentially face Bucky yet. He got a drink and watched the door, and when he saw Sharon arrive, he took a deep breath and waved her over. 

***

Steve was working on his fifth drink of the night when Bucky slid into the booth next to him. “So?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Bucky, I’m… I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” Steve said.

“No, you really shouldn’t. It’s one thing to state your case, it’s another to shit all over someone who cares… a friend. You know?”

Steve hung his head. “I know, and I’m so sorry. Do you think you can ever forgive me?”

Bucky knocked his shoulder against Steve’s. “Yeah, probably. So how did it go with Sharon?”

Steve took a deep breath. “She, uh, she broke up with Brock and asked me if I wanted to get back together.”

“Ah. So when are you moving out?”

“I’m not.” Bucky looked at Steve in surprise, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “You were right. She’d just screw me over again if I got back with her. I couldn’t let her do that to me again.”

Bucky grinned at him. “Good to know you’ve finally learned some common sense,” he teased.

“So what about you? What did you do all day?”

“I, uh, I wrote about ten articles.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a laugh. “I guess what you said really spurred me on to, I don’t know, prove you wrong?

“That’s amazing, Bucky!” Steve said, genuinely pleased for his friend.

“Yeah, I mean, if anyone wants them, but I finally wrote the ‘Bogling—Has It Returned’ article that’s been on the back burner.”

“So it _was_ for research!”

“I told you that, didn’t I?” Bucky smiled softly, pushing an errant strand of hair out his face. “Anyway, if I actually sell them I might be able to make a decent amount of cash.”

“That’s really, really great, Buck.”

“Thanks.” Bucky paused. “I am sorry, you know. About Sharon.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s fine. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Plus, she’s kind of a terrible person, and I don’t really want to be with someone like that.”

Bucky smiled shyly at him over his drink, and Steve felt a weird fluttering in his chest. _This is it!_ he thought. _Make your move!_

Before he could do more than think about it, though, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint piled in beside them.

“Hey, everyone,” Bucky said brightly, completely unaware of Steve’s dilemma. “What’s up?”

“Bruce took me on a date,” Clint blurted out, then blushed.

Steve’s eyes widened. “Go Bruce!”

“We went to an art gallery,” Bruce said sheepishly.

“It was amazing,” Clint gushed. “So many genre defying works!”

“So are you going to go out again?” Steve asked. This time both Bruce and Clint blushed as they nodded. “Awesome.” He raised his glass. “To friendship!”

“To new beginnings,” Bucky added, giving Steve a small, private smile.

“To us!” Natasha finished, and they all drank deep.

At that moment, they started playing Bastille’s _Laughter Lines_. Bucky loved that song, and Steve had started associating it with him, although he didn’t want to examine that too closely. He held out his hand to Bucky. “May I have this dance?”

Bucky smiled, and nodded, and they made their way out to the dance floor. Having Bucky in his arms like this felt more right than anything had for a long time, and Steve almost confessed his feelings right there and then. But as he looked into Bucky’s smiling face, something told him to wait, that this wasn’t the right time. 

So instead, he just held Bucky to him as they danced, enjoying his nearness. There would be time enough later. 

They had all the time in the world.


	7. Part 2, Chapter 7

Bucky arrived at Grand Central Station and dragged his bags from the train, skin golden bronzed and glowing. His backpacking adventure around the US—funded mostly by the money he had made from all the articles he’d written before the summer, although subsidized slightly by some cash from his parents—had been amazing, but it was good to be home. He said goodbye to Gary, with whom he’d travelled the last leg of the journey, and made his way to the subway. 

When he arrived back at the apartment, Steve and Natasha were playing video games. “Hey, I’m home!” he announced happily, and Steve gave him a wave before going back to the game. 

Huh. Well that was an unacceptable welcome home after two months away.

“A-HEM,” he said loudly. “Is that it? Is that all the welcome I get after coming home?”

Steve’s shoulders drooped and he paused the game, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Bucky. Hey.” He wrapped Bucky up in a hug and Bucky buried his face in Steve’s neck, taking in the familiar scent of him.

“Hey. Miss me?”

“Yeah. It was weird without you here.” Steve pulled back and looked at Bucky fondly. “Did you have a good time?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Wish you could have come, though.”

“Did you find yourself?”

Bucky thought for a moment, then nodded again. “Yeah, I—I think I did.” He laughed. “Mostly, though, I’m looking forward to a hot shower and a night in my own bed.”

He carried his bag towards his bedroom, Steve trailing along behind him. “Uh, yeah, Bucky, about that…” he said as Bucky opened his bedroom door to a scene from _Apocalypse Now_.

“Um?” Bucky said eloquently.

“Well the thing is,” Steve said in a rush, “Natasha got thrown out of her apartment after she accidentally set the trash can alight with an ill-judged flare, so she’s been staying in your room while she looks for some place else. If we’d known you were coming home today we’d have moved her stuff out of your room!”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” Bucky said, smiling weakly. “Of course you couldn’t leave her homeless.”

“Right?” Steve said, looking relieved. “Look, why don’t I take you to the bar for a drink while Natasha clears out your room and you can tell me about your trip?”

Steve’s eyes were pleading, and Bucky melted. “Yeah, okay,” he replied, smiling, and Steve hugged him again.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully into Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky breathed him in helplessly. 

When Steve finally let go, Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “To the bar!” he said dramatically, and Steve laughed.

They sat in their usual booth in the quiet bar, sipping slowly at their drinks. “So what did you see?” Steve asked, and Bucky grinned.

“God, everything. I stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon, I traversed the swamps of Florida and the bayou of Louisiana. I drove down route 666, I hitchhiked from truckstops, I met some of the most interesting people…”

“And did you find what you were looking for?” Steve asked softly.

Bucky smiled. “Kinda. I figured some stuff out, anyway. And I’m glad to be home.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, when he was distracted by something over Bucky’s shoulder. “Uh, do you know any guys who walk around in black suits and wear sunglasses even indoors?”

“No, why?”

“Because there are two of them coming over here.”

Bucky looked around as the two men stopped beside them. “James Barnes?” one of them asked.

“Uh, yes?” Bucky replied, as Steve looked at him strangely.

“We’re going to have to ask you to come with us,” the other man said, grabbing Bucky’s arm.

“Now just hold on a minute,” Steve said hotly, but the first man held up his hands.

“I don’t think you want to get involved in this, sir.”

“The hell I don’t. What do you want with him?”

Steve was glaring at the two men like he’d fight them to the death, and Bucky felt his heart thud in his chest. The two men glanced at each other. “We believe that Mr Barnes has brought some contraband into the city, aiding a known felon, Gareth Malone.”

Bucky looked at them in confusion. “I don’t know any Gareth… Wait. You don’t mean Gary, do you? I met him on the train. I’m not in cahoots with him, we just made conversation.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us until we can verify your story,” the first man said, and Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“I’m going nowhere without my lawyer,” he told them. 

As the four men stared at each other, none willing to give an inch, Natasha breezed over. “Problem?” she asked, tone carefully casual.

“These guys think I helped some random guy smuggle something into New York because I talked to some guy on the train,” Bucky scoffed.

Natasha laughed. “Yeah, okay, you can try it if you want. My friend isn’t going with you, and he definitely isn’t going without a lawyer.”

“Ms Romanoff—” the second man began, and Natasha tensed.

“How do you know my name?” she asked dangerously.

“We know a lot more than that, Ms Romanoff,” the first man said, his tone a threat, and Natasha smiled. It was the kind of smile a lion would give its prey, and the men took an involuntary step back. 

“Well, then you know that now I’m here, my friend will not be going anywhere with you.”

“Are you really going to meddle in government affairs?” 

She looked at the second man and laughed. “Oh, government, huh? Show me your badges.”

The two men looked at each other shiftily. “So you claim you did not assist the felon, yet you travelled together and the contraband we know he was carrying was not on his person or in his luggage.”

Natasha shrugged. “Not our problem.” She turned to Bucky. “Did he ask you to carry anything?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. It was weird, though, that we ended up sitting together.”

“Why?”

“Well, we had the same backpack. As we were getting off the train he knocked mine off the seat and handed it back to me…”

“He did what?” The men both looked alert. “Can we see this backpack?”

“Uh, sure?” Bucky said. “It’s back at the apartment. There’s nothing interesting in it, though. Just my travel journal and some snacks for the journey.”

“Let’s get this resolved once and for all,” Natasha said firmly. The three friends led the two men to the apartment, and Bucky handed them the backpack. They looked inside, then at each other.

“I believe this is the backpack we have been looking for,” the first man said. “We’ll take this. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Wait! If that’s his backpack, where’s mine?”

“Don’t worry,” the second man replied. “We have it. We’ll return it, and its contents, when we’ve verified that there’s nothing of interest.”

The two men nodded at them and left quickly. Bucky looked between Steve and Natasha in confusion.

“What the _fuck_?”

“I bet it was alien technology he was smuggling,” Steve said excitedly. “Otherwise they would have identified themselves. It couldn’t just have been drugs.”

Natasha shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.” She turned to Bucky. “Hey, uh, all my stuff is out of your room. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“It’s no problem. I’m just glad you came along when you did,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Um, Bucky? Why did that guy call you James?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Oh.” Bucky blushed. “That’s my real name. James Buchanan Barnes. I’ve just always been Bucky.”

“Oh. How did I not know this?”

Bucky laughed. “You never asked.”

“Does anyone call you James?” Natasha asked curiously.

“Only my mom, and only when I’m in trouble.”

“Cool.” Natasha looked at her watch. “Well, I’ve got cadets in like half an hour but I’ll be back later.”

As the door closed behind her, Steve wrapped Bucky in a tight hug. “Glad you’re home,” he said before releasing him. “So, wanna watch a movie?”

Bucky grinned. It was good to be home.


	8. Part 2, Chapter 8

Steve was asleep, peacefully dreaming about being on the Millenium Falcon with Han and Chewie when screams and yelling pierced his dream bubble and his eyes flew open. There was a loud crash, more screams and yelling, which seemed to get louder every passing moment. 

“Peter,” Steve muttered, heading out of his bedroom, where he was met by Bucky and Natasha. They heard the door upstairs bang open and pulled their own door ajar just in time to see a flash of red and blue as Peter dashed past them, down the stairs and out the door. They all followed, meeting Bruce at the outer door as tires squealed. Peter was gone.

“I knew this day would come,” Tony said from behind them, making Steve jump. “Still, he had to go some time.”

***

Tony came back to their apartment and sat at the dining table, sighing. “They’ve got to fly the nest at some point, I suppose. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“Drink?” Bucky asked, and Tony’s eyes widened. 

“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?” He thought for a moment. “Ah, go on then.”

“I meant more… coffee?” Bucky said weakly. Tony just looked at him expectantly.

A few moments later, Tony was pouring himself a glass of red wine. “I guess the place is going to feel pretty empty from now on,” Tony said, sighing. “I might take in a lodger. Might as well earn a bit of cash from the spare room.”

Steve’s ears pricked up. “We know someone looking for somewhere. Don’t we, Natasha?”

“Yes!” Natasha said hopefully. “That would be me!”

“Well, that works out well, then!” Tony said with a lopsided smile. Steve couldn’t tell if it was because that was just his expression or because he was drunk. “You can move your stuff in whenever you like!”

“Thanks, Tony! How does this afternoon work for you?”

“Perfect.”

Steve smiled at Bucky. Looked like everything was working out fine.

He had a good feeling about the day, after such an auspicious start. He whistled as he skateboarded down the street to work. Yeah. It was definitely gonna be a great day.

Unfortunately, within an hour of getting to work, Steve found himself getting into a ‘heated debate’—read ‘argument nearing a fistfight’—with a customer about Han Solo being Force sensitive. Steve knew he was, knew it in his _bones_ , but this customer was being a complete asshole about it. 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve spat eventually, when the customer had once again insisted that Han couldn’t be Force sensitive, “because obviously Han being able to shoot a target straight on while hanging upside down and _blind_ isn’t indicative of him being Force sensitive. Or the fact that he can navigate through an asteroid field with barely any damage to his ship. Or the fact that—“

The guy was backing away by now, hands up, and Steve heard Sam clear his throat behind him as the guy turned tail and ran away. “Steve. Can I have a word in my office, please?”

Steve sighed and followed Sam into the back office, taking the seat that Sam gestured to. Sam stayed standing, which really wasn’t a good sign.

“Sam, look, I know what you’re going to say—” Steve began, but Sam cut him off.

“Steve. I know you have your own opinions about Star Wars. We all do. But some stuff you just have to let go. You can’t keep driving away customers like that. If you do, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to let you go.”

“Sam, I can’t, though. When they’re assholes about it—”

“You don’t give them the chance to be reasonable,” Sam interrupted him. “You start arguing, which gets their hackles up, and you are literally putting people off shopping here. You have to do this. There’s no two ways here. You do this, or you’re gone.”

“But I can’t,” Steve pleaded.

Sam shrugged. “Then I’m sorry to do this, Steve, but I’m letting you go. I’ll handle the shop for the rest of the day.”

Steve stared at Sam for a long moment, then grabbed his coat and left the shop, trying not to cry. It had been his perfect job for so long, and now he was jobless. Jobless, and practically penniless anyway, so the joblessness would just compound that.

The further away from the shop he got, the angrier he became. How dare Sam fire him for standing up for his opinions? That was shitty managing. By the time he reached the apartment he was furious. He stormed into the apartment, ignoring the surprise on Bucky and Tony’s faces, and stomped into his bedroom, slamming the door.

A few moments later there was a knock on his bedroom door. “What?” he yelled.

“Can I come in?” Bucky’s voice was muffled through the heavy door.

Steve sighed. “Fine.”

The door opened and Bucky sidled in, looking concerned. “Something happen at work?”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “Sam fired me.”

He felt Bucky sit on the edge of the bed, and cracked an eye open to see his sympathetic face looking down. “Star Wars?”

“The asshole was arguing that Han couldn’t be force sensitive! What the fuck, was I just supposed to stand there and pretend to agree with him?”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand reassuringly. “It’s good that you’re uncompromising in your principles, and it was unfair of Sam to fire you for that.”

“Thank you.”

“So what will you do?”

Steve sighed again. “Find another job, I guess. I’ll have a look at other comic book stores in the area, see if they’ve got any job openings. And I’d better do it soon before we completely run out of cash and can’t pay the rent.” He paused. “Tony still out there?”

“Nah,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “He left just after you got home. Said this was ‘probably something that needed his boyfriend’s touch’.” 

“Ugh, why is everything so fucking complicated when you’re an adult?” 

“I wish I knew.” Bucky brushed a strand of hair from his face. “You want some coffee?”

Steve shook his head. “I think I’m gonna try to take a nap, then head out looking for a job. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.” Bucky got up to go. “If you need anything, let me know?”

“Thanks, Bucky,” Steve said softly, and Bucky nodded, leaving Steve to his thoughts.

***

He napped fitfully for an hour, before giving up and getting out of bed. Bucky was at the dining table, typing furiously on his laptop. A quick glance at the screen showed that he was actually working on an article rather than just updating Facebook. Loathe to disturb him, Steve left quietly on a mission to find a new job.

It was surprisingly easy. 

First, he figured he’d go and talk to Sam, ask him for his job back. Maybe grovel a little. But when he got there, he knew how Peter Pan must have felt, because there was another man in his place—another blond, fairly muscled man. Steve would have laughed about Sam clearly having a type if it wasn’t for the fact that he felt so tragic about the whole thing. He left dolefully, and wandered down a few streets until he found what he was looking for.

Five Star Comics’s biggest rival, Comix 4 U, had a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window. Steve clutched his resumé and opened the door. The owners, a young woman and her twin brother, looked at him suspiciously.

“What are you doing in here?” the young woman asked, slightly rudely. “Don’t you work for Five Star Comics?” She spat the name as though it was a curse, and Steve couldn’t help but wince slightly.

“Uh, I did. Sam fired me,” he confessed.

“Why?” the young man asked.

“I argued with a customer who claimed that Han Solo wasn’t Force sensitive.”

The young man snorted. “But that’s a perfectly valid reason to argue with a customer.” He smiled at Steve. “Job is yours if you want it.”

“Wow, thanks!” Steve said gratefully. “I’m Steve.”

“I’m Pietro,” the young man replied. “This is Wanda.”

“Pleased to meet you. When do you want me to start?”

Wanda shrugged. “Now?”

“Perfect,” Steve said with a grin.

He quickly got into the swing of things, but something about it wasn’t the same. Pietro and Wanda were nice enough, but they kept cracking jokes about Sam’s shop not being as good as theirs and wanting Steve to join in. Steve tried, but he couldn’t—the wound was too fresh, and in his mind, Sam was still his friend.

A job was a job, though, and he figured he could put up with Wanda and Pietro’s comments as long as they were paying him.

Bucky was supportive of his working there, which was good, although Steve didn’t really think Bucky understood. Steve’s loyalties were still with Sam and Five Star Comics, and working for a rival felt like a betrayal. But had Sam not betrayed him by firing him and replacing him straight away with a doppelgänger?

He’d been working at Comix 4 U for a week, and was learning to hate every second. Although they no longer expected Steve to join in, they kept making jibes at the nearby rival comic stores, including Sam’s. It set his teeth on edge.

As he was restocking one of the shelves, the door opened, and Steve was shocked to see that it was Sam. He glanced over at Pietro and Wanda, who were looking at Sam with a mixture of surprise and disdain.

“Uh. Can we talk?” Sam asked Steve quietly. 

“Sure,” Steve replied, keeping his tone casual.

“So the thing is… I need you back,” Sam pleaded. “It’s just not the same without you.”

“What about the new guy?” Steve asked snidely.

“He just… wasn’t you. Plus he actually knew fuck all about comics.”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know, Sam. I work here now.”

“Yeah, but you could not work here and work for me again instead?”

Steve looked at Sam and grinned. “Okay.” He turned to Pietro and Wanda. “Thanks for the opportunity, guys, but I belong at Five Star.”

“You can’t just leave us like that!” Pietro said, enraged, and Steve shook his head.

“I didn’t want to do this, but… _Friendship Is Magic is for kids_!” he yelled at them.

The twins grabbed lightsabers from beside them and chased Steve and Sam from the shop in a rage. Steve ran as fast as he could down the street, Sam a step behind him, until they were certain that the twins were no longer following. 

They looked at each other and laughed. “Come on,” Sam said, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

They took their coffee back to the shop, and Steve paused to breathe in the familiar smell of ink and plastic. It was good to be back.


	9. Part 2, Chapter 9

Bucky was still in his pajamas when there was a knock at the door, and he carried his coffee mug with him to open it. Bruce stood on the other side, looking woeful.

“Sorry. Is it a bit early?” he asked dismally.

Bucky shook his head, feeling curious. Bruce had been in a much better mood since he and Clint had started dating, so he figured it must be something serious if Bruce was back to his old, rather brooding self. “It’s fine, come in. I think Steve is still asleep, though.”

“Should I come back?”

Bucky sighed. “Don’t be stupid, get in here.”

Bruce followed Bucky inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He accepted Bucky’s offer of coffee, and sat staring into his mug as if it held the answers to life itself, until Bucky cleared his throat pointedly. “It’s Clint,” Bruce said suddenly.

“What happened?”

“Well, it’s not exactly Clint; it’s my art, but it’s Clint-adjacent. You see…” Bruce paused, and sighed. “I’ve been a little… off, recently. I thought I was just going through a slump, but I’m pretty sure it’s more than that.” He frowned. “Today, I was really getting back into it. I was painting like a madman. But then Clint called me, and when I went back to my painting, it had just… gone. It’s the only thing I can think of. I mean, how do you tackle a creative block?”

“Well, you see, I’m very lucky,” Bucky lied. “I rarely have creative blocks. My creative juices are almost always flowing.” He refused to think about the fact that he hadn’t written anything in a week and his cash flow had almost completely dried up.

“That is lucky.” Bruce sighed. “Anyway, I’d better go.”

“Oh, there’s a letter for you here. They delivered it up here instead of to you.” Bucky hoped Bruce wouldn’t notice it was already open. Bucky was kind of nosy.

“Okay, well, thanks. Sorry for unloading on you.”

“That’s okay. Sorry about your uncle.”

Bruce gave Bucky an odd look before heading downstairs with his letter.

Bucky wondered if Bruce would be okay when he read it. He replayed the letter over in his mind.

_Dear Bruce,_

_I hope you’re well, and hope you're not finding being a scientist too stressful. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your Uncle Eric died in his sleep yesterday, while driving down the I-90N. I know you were close to him as a boy, and hope you can find time in your busy schedule to come to the funeral next Thursday._

_Lots of love,_

_Mom_

Bucky hoped Bruce would be okay. 

***

“Shit. Shit fucking shit.”

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked, yawning, as he wandered out of his bedroom idly scratching his stomach.

“I've got exactly 12 dollars and 48 cents in my bank account. What the hell, I was sure I had more than that!”

“Well, you have been away on vacation and you haven’t written much since you got back. Why can’t you just write another article?”

“It’s not that easy!” Bucky whined. “I can’t just pluck another ‘Winter Skincare Dos and Don’ts’ out of thin air!”

“Why not?” 

“Well! I mean, it’s, you know, it’s… argh!”

Steve gave him a look. “Anyway, you’ll need to find some money somehow. Why don’t you get a job in a restaurant or something?”

“I could,” Bucky replied reluctantly. “I mean, I had a job in a bar once, and that was great fun. You know, the hustle, the bustle, the interesting characters…”

He cast his mind back to his time at the bar, fondly remembering…

_Bucky was behind the bar, cleaning glasses, when a man approached._

__“Excuse me, can I get a beer please?” the man asked pleasantly, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts._ _

___“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky retorted, ignoring the man’s indignant spluttering._ _ _

__“The thing is,” Bucky said, shaking himself out of his reverie, “you and I are just good with people.”_ _

__Steve nodded. “So are you gonna get a job, then?”_ _

__“You know what? I think I will.”_ _

__***_ _

__It was easier said than done. Bucky hadn’t really had many ‘real’ jobs, so his resumé was shockingly slim. Nevertheless, at the fifteenth place he visited, a rather dingy looking restaurant down a side street that Bucky hadn’t even known existed, he was hired as part of the kitchen staff to start the next day._ _

__When he got home, ready to triumphantly announce to Steve that he’d found something, Bruce was sitting with Steve on the sofa looking more depressed than Bucky had ever seen him._ _

__“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, concerned._ _

__“It happened again,” Bruce told him, sounding near to tears. “I read the letter telling me that my uncle had passed away, and I was so upset that I could paint again. I was really into it. I was _creating_. Then Clint phoned and told me he was coming over to stay the night because he doesn’t have work tomorrow and when I went back to painting it was just… gone.”_ _

__“Maybe if you just meditate? Take some deep breaths to calm yourself and try to clear your mind? That sometimes works for me,” Bucky told him._ _

__Bruce nodded. “I’ll try that. Thanks, Bucky.” He got up to go. “Thanks, both of you, for listening.”_ _

__Steve and Bucky smiled at him as he left. As soon as the door was closed, Bucky turned to Steve excitedly._ _

__“So? How did the job hunting go?” Steve asked._ _

__“I start tomorrow at a restaurant!” Bucky squealed._ _

__“Oh, awesome, good for you!”_ _

__“I’ll just take the trash out then I’ll tell you all about it.”_ _

__As Bucky walked down the stairs, he met Tony who was heading up to his own apartment. “Hello, kitten,” Tony greeted him. “How’s the writing?”_ _

__“On hold at the moment,” Bucky said. “I’ve got a job in a kitchen to get some character fodder.”_ _

__“Very good!”_ _

__“And how is it having Natasha staying with you?” Bucky asked._ _

__“It’s great!” Tony enthused. “I feel a lot safer with Natasha there. And all her guns. And knives. And other weapons I can’t identify but don’t want to ask about.”_ _

__“Probably better not to,” Bucky agreed. “We had Bruce up earlier.”_ _

__“Oh yes? I haven’t seen him for a while.”_ _

__“He’s been spending most of his time with Clint. I barely see Clint anymore either.” Bucky sighed. “Anyway, Bruce has apparently been going through a bit of a creative slump recently. He’s not sure why.”_ _

__“Hmm.” Tony looked thoughtful. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that, won’t we? Anyway, see you later, kitten.”_ _

__Bucky smiled at him and went to take the trash out. He couldn’t wait to start work the next day._ _

__***_ _

__As soon as he joined the other staff to await their duties for the day, Bucky knew he’d made a mistake. The head of the kitchen staff, a man called Alexander Pierce, was an absolute bastard. He barked orders, and made everyone feel small with his piercingly sarcastic jibes._ _

__He liked to pick on the weakest there, and everyone seemed to be cowed by him. And there were some pretty big, buff guys on the kitchen staff, Bucky noticed, but even they wouldn’t meet Pierce’s eyes._ _

__When Pierce had given them all their tasks for the day and left to go back to his office, Bucky turned to one of the other guys. “What’s his deal? Why does he think he can treat people like that?” he asked, outraged._ _

__The guy looked at him, shocked. “You can’t question him! He’s the owner’s cousin and can treat us how he likes.”_ _

__“That’s bullshit!” Bucky exclaimed. “You can’t just treat people like they’re crap. I’d complain.”_ _

__The guy shrugged. “Who would you complain to? The owner will take his side.”_ _

__“Ugh.” Bucky frowned. This whole ‘having a job’ thing wasn’t quite all it was cracked up to be._ _

__Pierce occasionally emerged from his office to harass the staff, but otherwise stayed well away. Bucky felt himself becoming more and more resentful. He’d like to see Pierce take on Natasha. She’d probably kill him after five minutes and make it look like an accident._ _

__When he got home that evening, he met Bruce at the door. “Hey, Bruce! How’s the block?”_ _

__“I’m over it!” Bruce said with a grin. “Tony came down and said some things, some… awful things, and suddenly I could paint again!”_ _

__Bucky had a sneaking suspicion about Tony’s motives in saying horrible things to Bruce, and hid a smile. “Well, that’s great, Bruce. I’m glad to hear it. Where are you off to now?”_ _

__“The garden. I’m going to commune with nature.”_ _

__“Right. Good for you. See you later!”_ _

__When Bucky got back into the apartment he looked out the window to see Bruce standing naked in the garden, howling at the moon, and he smiled. Everything seemed to be back to normal._ _

__The following day, Bucky went back, and Pierce turned his sights on him. “You, new guy,” Pierce barked at him._ _

__“Uh, my name is Bucky?” Bucky said snidely._ _

__Pierce narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care what your name is. Though Bucky is a fucking stupid name for a grown man.”_ _

__“You’re so fucking rude,” Bucky said, and everyone around him gasped and immediately stopped meeting his eyes. But Bucky pressed on. “Why do you do that? Why do you make people feel like shit? It’s not nice, and it’s not good management. You should be ashamed of yourself.”_ _

__Pierce laughed. “Ashamed? Why? Because I’m better than all of you?”_ _

__“You’re not better than me,” Bucky scoffed. “You only got this job because you’re the owner’s family.”_ _

__There was a beat of silence. Then:_ _

__“I think you should probably be on dish washing duty today,” Pierce said, an evil glint in his eyes. “Yes, _Bucky_ , I think you should definitely be downstairs today.”_ _

__Bucky tossed his head. How hard could it be to load some dishwashers?_ _

__Pierce led him down a flight of stairs to the basement. He pushed open a door, and Bucky blinked at the dim light of the room. There was one light bulb shining in the whole room, and it flickered every few moments as if to remind you that it was still there._ _

__An older man stood in front of a sink, bright yellow gloves on, and he looked in surprise at Bucky and Pierce, as if he wasn’t used to seeing other people. Dirty dishes were piled everywhere on every available surface._ _

__“You’ll be joining Jeff today. The dishwashers are broken so you’ll have to do it all by hand.” Pierce grinned nastily. “Have fun!”_ _

__“Wait!” Bucky cried, but Pierce had already shut the door, and Bucky blinked in the half light._ _

__Jeff held out a pair of gloves to him, and Bucky took them with a sigh._ _

__When his shift was finally finished, Bucky emerged, blinking into the light. His coworkers looked at him sympathetically, but said nothing. Bucky dragged himself to his locker, got changed back into his own clothes, and trudged home, spirit broken._ _

__***_ _

__Steve took one look at Bucky when he came in and immediately led him over to the sofa, pouring him a glass of wine._ _

__“What happened?” Steve asked, tone sympathetic, and Bucky felt his lower lip wobble._ _

__“He made me wash dishes _all day_ , Steve! In this horrible dark room and all the dishwashers were broken so there were piles and piles of dirty dishes everywhere and I only got one short break and…” Bucky broke off, hyperventilating, and Steve wrapped him in a hug._ _

__“Is there no one you can complain to?”_ _

__Bucky shook his head. “He’s the boss’s cousin. He can do whatever he damn well wants.”_ _

__“Oh, Bucky, I’m so sorry.” Steve hugged him again. “Hey, do you know what would really piss him off?”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“If you arranged a strike. And then wrote an exposé on how the workers are treated there.”_ _

__Bucky felt his spirits lift a little. “You’re right. Fuck, you’re so right!”_ _

__The next day, before Pierce arrived, Bucky gathered his coworkers to him and explained his plan. “Don’t you see? It’s the only way to make him look bad enough that the owner will take your complaints seriously!”_ _

__“I don’t know,” Jane, a small timid girl, said slowly. “What if we all lost our jobs?”_ _

__“We won’t! He can’t fire everyone, that will just look really bad. Come on, who’s with me?”_ _

__But nobody would meet Bucky’s eyes, and he sighed. Looked like he was on his own._ _

__When Pierce finally arrived, he looked around the room at them all as if they were pieces of shit he’d just scraped off his shoe. “Well, I hope you’re all ready to work a little harder today,” he said with a sneer. “You’re all slipping, and if you don’t work a bit better then I’m afraid you’ll all be out of jobs.”_ _

__Bucky stood up and took a deep breath. This was it. “I really don’t think you should speak to people like that,” he said, “especially not people who are working their asses off for you, trying to meet your every whim.”_ _

__Pierce glared at him. “I think you might enjoy another day down washing dishes, don’t you?”_ _

__Bucky shook his head. “I’m not washing your dishes. Get your goddamn dishwashers fixed. If you don’t start treating your staff better, I’m walking.”_ _

__“Then go.” Pierce shrugged. “There are plenty people here who can take your place.”_ _

__Adam, one of the cleaners, stood up. “No, we won’t. I’m going with him.”_ _

__Emboldened by Adam’s daring move, one by one all of the staff stood up, looking at Pierce defiantly._ _

__“W-well, if you all leave then you’re all fired!” Pierce stammered._ _

__Bucky shrugged. “Fire us all, then, but good luck replacing everyone in the space of an hour before opening.”_ _

__Pierce’s eyes widened in fear. At that moment, an older man in a suit walked into the kitchen, looking in surprise at all the staff standing together._ _

__“Alexander? What’s going on?” the man asked gruffly._ _

__“They’re threatening to walk out so I’m firing them all,” Pierce said._ _

__The man looked at him in shock. “Why are they walking out?”_ _

__“Because we’re sick of Pierce treating us like dirt,” Bucky said quickly, before Pierce could say anything. “He’s mean and he’s nasty and he treats us like scum, and we won’t take it anymore.”_ _

__“Is this true?” the man asked Pierce sternly._ _

__“It’s true,” Adam said, and the others murmured their agreement._ _

__“I think we should close for today, then,” the man said. “Alexander, I’d like a word, please? All of you can go home.”_ _

__As the door was closing behind them, they could hear the man yelling at Pierce, and they all grinned at each other. They had prevailed, and nothing could feel better than this._ _


	10. Part 2, Chapter 10

“Battlebots!” Natasha yelled at Steve as he let her into the apartment.

“Battlebots!” Steve yelled back.

Bucky looked at them both strangely. “What?”

Steve grinned at him. “Battlebots has been revived again and is in New York right now, and our robot has battled through to the final tomorrow.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “How did I not know about this?”

“You were kinda preoccupied with that shit job, and then you were writing your exposé. I didn’t want to bug you with something so minor.”

“Steve, this is a big deal for you two! Of course you wouldn’t have bothered me with it. I like to know stuff that’s important to you.”

Steve felt as though his heart had swollen two sizes bigger, and swallowed hard. “Thanks, Buck,” he said softly.

Natasha cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’ve thought of some sick modifications we can do to make it even more powerful for next time.”

“Do go on,” Steve said with a grin. 

As Natasha outlined her idea, Steve watched Bucky out the corner of his eye. Bucky wasn’t doing anything much, just watching TV, but his look of concentration and the way he brushed annoying wisps of hair out of his face was making Steve’s heart pound.

Natasha poked him on the arm. “Are you even listening?”

“Hidden blade, yes, I think it’s a great idea. We’re gonna get through to the final for sure.”

“Come on,” Natasha said excitedly. “I wanna go check on our baby.” When they reached the shed in the garden, however, they discovered it had been broken into, and their bot had been trashed. “What the fuck?” Natasha shrieked.

“I bet it was those bastards we’re up against tomorrow,” Steve said angrily. “I know one of them, guy called Alan, and he’s a complete shit. It must have been them—who else knew?”

“I’ll kill them,” Natasha said, eyes flashing dangerously.

Steve laid his hand on her arm. “You could do that, and be arrested for murder. Or we could make those modifications we talked about, work on it all night and have it ready for the final tomorrow.”

Natasha thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll try your plan first, but if it doesn’t work then I get to kill them.”

“Agreed.”

They took the damaged bot up to the apartment, along with their tools, and began to work on it. Bucky watched them with interest, making them coffee when they needed it. Bucky eventually went to bed, but Steve and Natasha kept going, repairing and making their modifications.

Around two a.m., Steve was just about nearing collapse. “I need an espresso,” he muttered.

“Don’t go heavy on the arabica, you know it makes you paranoid,” Natasha told him.

“No, no, this is Java, medium roast. None of that Italian filth. It’s _fairtrade_.”

“Okay, just checking.”

Steve downed the espresso and went back to work with a new energy. It was probably just the caffeine, but he was happy to take that.

Finally, at five a.m., it was done.

“Okay,” Steve said to Natasha. “Let’s get a few hours shut-eye, and then we’ll be well rested for the final tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” Natasha replied, yawning. “Okay, see you later, Steve.”

When they arrived at the studio the next day for the final, their opponents looked shocked to see them.

“We’d, um, we’d heard that your bot was out of commission?” Alan said, smiling fakely.

Steve shook his head. “Nope, don’t know where you heard that, but whoever told you was wrong. Our bot is ready and raring to go.”

In the end, it was a very one-sided bloodbath. Steve and Natasha’s bot, ‘The Juggernaut Btch’, pounded the opposition into pieces, before chopping it up with the hidden blade. The other side looked on sourly as Steve and Natasha received the trophy and the check for their prize money.

It was definitely a good day.

***

Buoyed up by his success with the Battlebots, Steve flopped down on the sofa the next day beside Bucky. “I’m going to submit my comic book to Rising Star Comics,” he told him.

Bucky beamed. “That’s brilliant, Steve! You have such a great talent, I’m glad you're finally doing something with it.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” Bucky’s belief in him meant a little bit too much, but instead of examining it, he turned his thoughts in a different direction

Two years previous, when he was young and a little naive, Steve had submitted a comic—a different one to the one he was working on now—to Rising Star. The head of Rising Star was Nicholas J Fury, an imposing bald man with an eyepatch, and he had laughed Steve out of his office. Steve had drawn a rather impressive caricature of Fury with a speech bubble coming out his mouth saying, “I’m a complete bastard”. Not perhaps his finest work, but it had been cathartic at the time.

Bucky stood up, surprising Steve out of his reverie. “Coffee?”

“Um, yeah, thanks.”

As Bucky made coffee, Steve took that particular work out of his portfolio. Luis would be there any minute to pick it up and it needed to be perfect and not insulting to the guy who held Steve’s livelihood in his hands.

“What are your plans for today?” Steve asked.

Bucky stirred the coffees thoughtfully. “Probably work on an article, you know.”

At that moment, a strange, rhythmic thumping started upstairs. Steve and Bucky looked at each other. “What is _that_?” Steve asked.

“Maybe it’s Tony?”

“Maybe it’s Natasha?”

Bucky grimaced. “Maybe it’s Tony _and_ Natasha.” They shuddered in tandem.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said, going into his bedroom and looking around to make sure there was nothing that he had missed. When he went back out, Bucky was sitting on the sofa, coffee in hand. 

“Your coffee is on the table,” he said, smiling, and Steve nodded.

There was a knock at the door, and Steve went to answer it. There stood Luis, who immediately went in for a hug.

“Hey, man, was so good to hear from you today! How’s everything going?”

“It’s going good!” Steve said, smiling, as he led Luis inside. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all good, man! All good. I did this one job the other day, right, and I picked up all these boxes from this guy. Seemed like a good guy, really quiet and unassuming, you know? So I’m loading the boxes into the van after he’s gone inside to deliver to this woman’s address, and I look down at the boxes and they’ve got stuff like ‘slut’s shoes’ and ‘bitch’s bits’ and I’m just like… whoa, that guy must’ve been really pissed at her, you know what I’m sayin’?”

“Wow, yeah.”

“So what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could deliver my portfolio for me to Rising Star Comics, please?” Steve said hopefully.

Luis frowned. “Oh that’s nice. I don’t hear from you for weeks and when I do you want a favor? You know the last time I saw you, you told me you wished I was your pop and you hugged me for the entire length of the extended mix of Armin van Buuren’s _I Live For That Energy_? That really hurts me here, man.” Luis thumped his chest and Steve suddenly felt quite ashamed.

“I’m really sorry, Luis. I should keep in touch more.”

Luis looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. “Nah, man, it’s cool, I know you’ve got a lot on right now. I’ll deliver your portfolio, no problem. And how are you doing, Bucky?”

Bucky grinned. “Pretty good. Got some new ideas for some articles.”

“Hey, that’s great! Man, you’re both so creative, that’s so cool that you’re friends. I can appreciate art but I can’t make it, know what I’m sayin’?” At that moment, the banging upstairs started up again. “What’s that noise?” Luis asked.

“We don’t know,” Bucky and Steve said in unison.

“Huh. Okay, well, I’d better go make this delivery for you.”

Steve handed the portfolio over. “Guard this with your life, and please get it there ASAP.”

“Always, man, always, and no problem. Catch you two later!”

As the door closed behind him, the banging upstairs seemed to get louder. “What is that noise?” Steve asked.

“I’m going up to find out,” Bucky said decidedly.

“Well, while you’re up there, can you tell Natasha I need her?”

“Sure, why?”

“No reason. I just… need her.”

Bucky left, and Steve collapsed on the sofa with his coffee. He looked around for the picture of Fury…

...Only to discover it had disappeared. 

Natasha came in a few minutes later, inexplicably in neon workout gear, to find Steve hunting frantically behind the cushions. “What’s up? Bucky said—”

“I can’t find the caricature!” Steve said wildly.

“Caricature?”

“Of Nick Fury. I just sent my portfolio to Rising Star Comics with Luis and I’m sure I took it out and left it…” A sudden thought occurred to him and he gasped. “Oh no. Bucky didn’t know. What if Bucky put it in there while I was out of the room?”

“He couldn’t have been that stupid, right?”

Bucky came in at that moment and Steve took a deep breath. “Bucky, you didn’t see a caricature of a bald guy with an eyepatch saying ‘I’m a complete bastard’ did you?” When Bucky opened his mouth to reply, Steve continued, “And _don’t_ say you put it in my portfolio because then you may well have screwed everything up.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Um. I put it in _a_ portfolio.”

“What.”

“I put it in… your portfolio.”

“ _What_?”

“Did he say what I think he just said?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Steve replied.

“ _What_?” Natasha exclaimed.

“I was only trying to help!” Bucky said, visibly upset, but Steve was too angry to notice. 

“Yeah, well, in future, don’t. That was Nick Fury, the head of Rising Star Comics, the guy who holds my entire life in his hands today. Fuck! Come on, Natasha, we’ve gotta try and get there before Luis, you know he won’t answer his phone when he’s on a job.”

As they left, Natasha paused beside Bucky. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” she said, tone soothing. “Steve’s just angry because you might have completely ruined his future.”

They rushed out the door and down to the street, hailing the first cab that came by. Steve gave the address and they made their way as fast as they could through the Brooklyn traffic. 

When they arrived at the office block where Rising Star Comics had their offices, Luis was outside. “Oh thank god,” Steve muttered. “Luis!” 

Luis looked up. “Hey, Steve, what’s up?”

“Luis! Don’t deliver that parcel!”

Luis stared at Steve in distress. “Steve, man, I already delivered it half an hour ago. I had to come back because I left my wallet.” He glanced at Natasha. “Nice outfit.”

“Thanks!” Natasha replied.

“Oh no no no no no!” Steve’s heart was racing in his chest. “We have to get it back!”

“There’s no way,” Luis said. “No one is allowed upstairs, not even delivery guys. All parcels are left at reception and are collected by in-house personnel.”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

Luis shook his head. “Not without an appointment.”

“Fuck. Natasha? Any ideas?” Natasha stared off into the distance, and Steve could practically hear the guns and bombs going off in her mind. Useless. “Luis?” he asked desperately.

Luis nodded. “I have a plan, but we’re going to need radios.”

Steve and Natasha held up the radios they carried with them everywhere, and Luis grinned.

***

As Luis went in to charm the security guard at the front desk, Steve and Bucky crawled past the desk on hands and knees to the stairwell and slipped inside. They ran up to the fourth floor, where Steve knew Rising Star Comics had their offices.

“Are you ready, Natasha?” Steve whispered as they looked through the door into the corridor.

“I was born ready, Steve,” Natasha replied.

“Yes, but are you ready _now_?”

“Um… yeah!”

“Come on, then. Gotta get that drawing back.” They dashed through the corridor to Fury’s office, but when they got there, the door was locked. Steve banged his head against the door. “Fuck! What are we gonna do?”

“There,” Natasha said, pointing up.

“What?”

“Ventilation shaft. Simple but classic.”

Steve laughed until he realized that Natasha wasn’t joking. He thought for a moment. It was really their only chance. “Ugh, fine. Who wants to go up? You’re smaller.”

“I don’t like enclosed spaces.”

“Do you really think you can get me up there?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and laced her hands together.

Somehow they managed to get Steve into the ventilation system. He called down to Natasha to radio him if anyone came along, and crawled through the tunnel, until he looked down and saw his portfolio on Fury’s desk. He knocked the vent through and dropped down, then began frantically looking through to find the drawing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said a voice, and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked up to see Scott, Fury’s handsome assistant, staring at him. Steve had had a huge crush on Scott for a while now, since they had met two years previous. Of course he hadn’t done anything about it, since he was with Sharon, except for draw a few portraits from memory.

“W-well,” Steve stammered. “I was just, um, well…”

Scott took the drawing from behind his back. “Looking for this?”

“Um, yeah. Um, yeah, I was. I had to get it back, because if Mr Fury saw it—”

“It wouldn’t really do you any favors, would it?”

“Em, no.” Steve paused. “How have you been, Scott?”

“Good.”

“Good, good.” Steve paused and laughed nervously. “I, um, actually forgot you worked here.”

“Really,” Scott said dryly, putting one of the portraits down on top of the caricature of Fury. The portrait itself was fine, but the love hearts around it were a little embarrassing.

“ _Steve!_ ” Natasha’s voice hissed through the radio static. “ _That guy you like is just going into the office!_ ”

Steve laughed helplessly and brought the radio up to his mouth. “Thanks, Natasha.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’d better get going.” 

Scott walked him to the door. “Here’s your picture,” he said, handing Steve the caricature. “But I think I’ll keep this one,” he continued, holding up the portrait.

“Um, yeah, sure, you do that.”

“It was nice to see you, Steve.”

“You’re nice too… I mean, it was nice to see you too.” Steve could have kicked himself, but just smiled wanly and turned away.

“What are you doing on Friday?” Scott asked.

“What?”

“Steve. Would you like to go out with me for a drink on Friday?” Scott asked slowly, a small smile playing about his lips.

“Yeaaah,” Steve said, smiling goofily.

“Great. I’ll call you.”

He went back out into the corridor, found Natasha, and pulled her towards the stairwell. “Did you get the drawing?” Natasha asked.

“That isn’t all I got,” Steve replied with a grin. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They were so buoyed up with their success that they forgot to be sneaky on the way down, and bumped into the security guard as they walked through the foyer. Steve was all ready to make a dash for it when the security guard smiled.

“Hey, Natasha!”

“Hey, Brent,” Natasha replied, clapping the security guard on the shoulder.

“Nice outfit!”

“Thanks.”

“You going on maneuvers tonight with the cadets?” Brent asked as Steve stared at them in disbelief.

“Yeah. I’ve got this amazing idea for disabling the opposite team—” 

“Um, Natasha, we should probably go?” Steve said helplessly.

“Right. Hey, good to see you, Brent, and see you tonight.” As they walked out the building to meet Luis, Steve gave Natasha a look. “What?” Natasha asked in confusion.

Steve sighed. “Never mind. Let’s get back to the apartment.”

Luis gave them a ride back, and as they got out of the van, Tony and Bucky were just going in the gate, both of them also in workout gear. Bucky looked at Steve nervously.

“Steve, I—”

“Bucky, look, I’m really sorry,” Steve said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But hey, we got the picture back!”

“That’s not all he got,” Natasha said teasingly.

“Shut up,” Steve said, blushing. “Come on. I think we all deserve a drink.”

He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and they all went inside. Steve couldn’t stop smiling. He had a feeling things were going to start going his way.


	11. Part 2, Chapter 11

So Steve was now dating some guy called Scott. It was fine. Bucky didn’t care. He didn’t. Good for Steve, getting back on the dating horse.

So why did Bucky feel like there was a hole in his chest?

Steve was going out with Scott again tonight. That was two nights running, not that Bucky was counting, or anything. He was getting ready right now. They had been out a few times, and it was only a matter of time before they had sex. Just thinking about it made Bucky ache so he concentrated harder on the stew he was making. 

Natasha was sitting on the chair, polishing one of her guns, when Steve emerged. Bucky refused to look round, instead focusing on stirring the stew.

“Natasha!” Steve said. “How sexy do I look?”

Natasha whistled. “Very!”

“Thanks. Hey, Bucky!” Bucky turned around, a fake smile plastered on his face. “How sexy do I look?” 

The answer was ‘unbelievably so’. “Very! Yeah, very, um, very sexy. You know, you don’t want to make it look like you’ve made too much of an effort,” he added snidely.

Steve’s face fell as he looked down at his outfit. “I’ll, uh, change my shirt.” He came back out a few moments later in a black shirt, looking even more lickable. Bucky only just managed not to whimper. Steve’s phone buzzed, and he smiled goofily at it before answering. “Hey, Scott! Can’t wait to see you tonight.” He paused. “Oh. Oh, that sucks. Yeah, definitely next week.” He lowered his voice, and Bucky definitely did not strain to hear him. “When you say ‘do it’, what exactly do you mean? Haha, okay, I can’t wait to find out. Okay. See you soon. Bye.” He ended the call and frowned. “Fury has Scott working late tonight.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Bucky said disingenuously. 

Steve walked towards his bedroom before turning back sharply. “I can’t believe he’s sleeping with his boss!”

“What?” Bucky asked, confused.

“It’s how it starts, isn’t it? The excuses. ‘Oh I’ve got to work late’, ‘Oh I’ve got a presentation’, ‘Oh I’ve got to call the LA office and they’re a few hours behind’. It’s me and Sharon! It’s textbook!” Natasha quietly got up and slapped Steve across the face. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Well,” Natasha said, “you said to me that every time you suffered emotional paranoia as a result of your breakup with Sharon, I should slap you in the face.”

Steve paused. “Yes, I did say that. Thank you very much.” He sighed. “Yeah, so now I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.” He looked at Natasha and Bucky. “Hey, why don’t we go out?”

“I can’t,” Natasha said ruefully. “I promised Tony we’d watch _The A Team_.”

“I’ll come out,” Bucky said. “I’ll just put this stew in the slow cooker and it’ll be ready by the time we get back.”

“Awesome!” 

“Just let me get changed.” Bucky put the stew into the slow cooker and set it, then headed through to his bedroom. He picked out a soft, cream colored sweater and black, ass-hugging pants, and tied his hair back into a soft bun. When he went back out, Steve’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard.

“You look nice,” he said weakly.

“Thanks,” Bucky replied, hiding a grin. 

There was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” Steve called.

“Bruce,” came the reply. 

“Well come in then.” Bruce came in, pouting. “I thought you were going out?”

“Not any more,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Clint’s in a mood.”

“Oh, what a surprise, an unreliable boyfriend,” Steve said snidely. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He didn’t specify.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got to guess, haven’t you?”

“It’s like as soon as you date someone, the unspoken telepathy thing goes away,” Natasha said sagely.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked.

Natasha grinned. “Put a group of people, who don’t even have to know each other, in the same room, and you have a kind of connection.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky said curiously.

Natasha turned to Steve. “Shall we show him, Steve?”

“Natasha, I’m not really in the mood…” Natasha lifted her hands, fingers shaped like guns. “Oh, shit…”

Natasha began to fire, making the noises herself, and Steve cocked an invisible shotgun, jerking as Natasha’s bullets hit his shoulder and aimed, firing. Natasha mimed the blood coming out of her chest as she fell backwards onto the chair. 

Steve turned to Bruce, whose eyes widened. He suddenly seemed to catch on and began to spray bullets everywhere from his invisible machine gun. Bucky watched in amusement as Steve staggered backwards, before aiming his shotgun again and firing. Bruce collapsed to the floor, and as Steve aimed again, took an invisible knife from his sock and threw it at Steve’s head. Steve fell backwards onto the sofa as Bruce lay still on the floor.

Steve and Natasha got up as if nothing had happened. “Right, Bucky, you ready to leave?” Steve asked casually. 

“Um, yes?”

“You’ll lock up behind you, right?” Steve asked Natasha, who nodded.

“Roger, Rogers.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Aaaaand that’s our cue to leave. See you later!”

As they left, Bruce sat up. “That’s never happened to me before!” Bucky saw Natasha ruffle Bruce’s hair as the door closed behind them.

***

“So what’s the plan, then?” Steve asked as they went out the gate.

“Well, I think we should hit up a fashionable gay bar first, before going to see an off-Broadway show by some hippy writer, preferably something with a cuss word in the title, then afterwards go to an all night coffee house before heading to a late night jazz bar until it’s closing time and we go home for some delicious stew!”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “We could do that, orrrr we could go to the bar, have some drinks so we’re totally drunk by the time we want to head out to a club. We order enough drinks there so that we’re laughing in the corner like idiots and keep drinking until we a) fall over, b) throw up, or c) fall over and throw up.”

“I like my idea better.”

“Well you would.”

“Toss a coin?”

“Yeah, okay.”

***

By the time they reached the club, they were completely tanked. They giggled as they ordered more drinks at the bar, then took them to a booth near the back. They giggled a lot more as they drank four tequila slammers in a row, as Steve ranted to Bucky about bronies and how they had ruined the My Little Pony fandom for kids with all their morally reprehensible pony porn that they put on the internet, then Bucky slumped back in his seat.

“No more,” he groaned.

“Lightweight,” Steve slurred teasingly. 

“So what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Steve shrugged. “Always wanted to be an artist, I guess. What about you?”

“Elvis,” Bucky confessed.

“That’s stupid, he’s dead!” 

Bucky frowned, and immediately stood on the seat to sing some Elvis to Steve to prove that, in fact, he _could_ have been Elvis if he’d wanted to be. Steve just raised his eyebrow and kept drinking. 

When he was done, he collapsed back into the seat. “So, uh. Scott sounds nice,” Bucky said quietly.

“Yeah, he’s cool, very cool. And he’s very funny as well, he really makes me laugh.”

“That’s good. I’m glad for you. Glad. Very glad.”

“So—”

“Glad.”

Steve cleared his throat. “So what about you? Got someone special you’re not telling me about?”

Bucky avoided Steve’s gaze. “No. I think I put men off,” he said with a sigh.

“No, come on, Bucky…” Steve said, but Bucky shook his head.

“No, I do, trust me.”

“Look, you’re a gorgeous, talented guy, okay?” Steve said softly. “I’m just going to the bathroom, and I bet you any money when I come back some guy is gonna be at this table hitting on you, okay?”

Steve left to go to the bathroom, and he hadn’t been away for long when an attractive, dark haired man came over. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, voice husky.

“Um, sure,” Bucky said, a little flustered. 

“Haven’t seen you in here before,” the man said, smiling, and Bucky found himself blushing.

“I’m just out with a friend.”

“That’s cool. I’m Brock.” 

The name sounded familiar, but Bucky couldn’t place it. “Hey, I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky. That’s a great name.” Brock smiled at him. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Thanks, I’ll have a vodka and Diet Coke.”

Brock was back from the bar, chatting and laughing with him, by the time Steve returned. Bucky took one look at Steve’s angry face and paused.

“Steve? This is…”

“Brock,” Steve growled, and Bucky suddenly put the pieces together. “This isn’t the kind of place I’d expect to see you.”

“Funny,” Brock replied, sneering. “It’s exactly the kind of place I’d expect to find you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out,” Brock retorted.

“All right then.” Steve thought for a moment. 

“You’re Brock. The Brock,” Bucky said quietly.

“Brock Rumlow.”

“The Brock who, um…”

“Stole my girlfriend,” Steve said angrily.

“Well,” Brock said, “that depends on which way you look at it.”

“I’m pretty sure Steve looks at it that way,” Bucky told him.

“Yes, I do, yes,” Steve agreed.

“So Steve, how have you been?” Brock asked. “Haven’t seen you since, um…”

Bucky remembered exactly what Steve had told him about the last time he’d seen Brock.

“Yeah, well,” Steve said smugly. “No hard feelings, huh?”

“You shot me in the balls, Steve.”

“Like I said— _no hard feelings_.” Steve and Bucky nodded at each other. Sick burn.

“You’re lucky I didn’t sue,” Brock said, clearly becoming annoyed.

“Well, why didn’t you?” Steve goaded him.

“I’m not a monster, Steve. Besides, I know you don’t have much in the way of… assets.”

Steve snorted. “I heard you got back together with Sharon.”

“She came to her senses.”

“She not out tonight?”

“No, she’s, uh…”

“Working late?”

“Working on a presentation.”

“Putting in a lot of overtime, is she?” Steve asked snidely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You work it out.” Steve turned to Bucky. “Come on, Buck, we’re leaving.”

“‘Kay,” Bucky said, and followed Steve out the door. 

As they turned the corner down a side street, a group of young guys stepped in front of them. 

The one who was obviously their ringleader stepped forward. “We couldn’t help but overhear the nasty things you were saying about bronies,” he said, eyes narrowed. 

“That, um…” Steve said slowly.

“We don’t take too kindly to that kind of talk,” the ringleader said, as one of the guys in the back put a pair of plastic hooves over his hands. “I think we should teach you two a lesson.”

“Shit,” Steve muttered. Bucky knew what he was thinking. They were both big guys, but there were ten of them, and the odds weren't looking good. “What do you think we should do?” he murmured to Bucky.

Bucky had a sudden brainwave. He glanced down at Steve’s hands, then his own, then back to Steve’s face, and nodded. 

Steve nodded back.

They drew their invisible guns and started firing. The gang’s eyes widened as they too drew invisible weapons. 

It was carnage. 

Some of them took refuge behind trash cans, firing out from behind them, falling to the ground when Bucky threw some invisible grenades. The one with the plastic hooves yelled, “Clip clop, motherfuckers!” as he pumped his invisible shotgun, but Steve got him in the chest before he could aim. Finally, the fight was over, no one left standing. Bucky grabbed Steve and they ran for it. They were more than half way down the street by the time the bronies realized what had happened, and by the time the guys reached them, Steve and Bucky had already jumped into a cab. 

When the cab dropped them off, and there was no sign of them being followed, Steve and Bucky started giggling. They didn’t stop until they reached the apartment. 

“Stew?” Bucky asked, and Steve nodded, smiling.

“That sounds great, Buck.”

Bucky hid his blush and began to dish up the stew. Maybe Steve was with a new guy, and yeah, it broke Bucky’s heart, but if Steve was happy, maybe that was enough.


	12. Part 2, Chapter 12

Steve could be an oblivious idiot, but he wasn’t quite so oblivious that he didn’t realize that something was up with Bucky recently. He’d been weirdly quiet and withdrawn, and when Scott had been round, Bucky had made polite conversation for a few minutes then even more politely excused himself and gone into his bedroom. Steve figured that maybe Bucky was lonely, and decided that he needed to find someone to set him up with.

The morning of Bucky’s birthday dawned bright. Steve woke up, Scott in his arms, and smiled. He was the luckiest guy in the world.

Bucky was already at the dining table with his coffee when Steve went through, and he began to sing. “Happy birthday to yah, happy birthday to yah, happy birthdayyyy to yaaaah.”

Bucky smiled wanly at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“My birthday song.”

“Oh, is it your birthday?” Steve asked airily, before laughing. He went over to the refrigerator. “Oh, heyyyy, what’s in here?” He took out the card he’d made and handed it to Bucky, who smiled wide when he opened it and saw the drawing on the front of Bucky as a badass superhero with a metal arm. 

“Oh my god, I love it! Is that me?” Steve nodded. “Thank you, Steve, it’s really great.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s messy head. “Happy birthday, jerk. I’m just gonna go to the bathroom then I’ll whip you up a birthday breakfast, okay?”

“Okay.”

When he came back out, Scott had emerged, and was looking delighted while Bucky smiled at him. Bucky’s smile looked a little fake, though, and again Steve couldn’t help but wonder what was up with him these days.

“Bucky’s just invited me to his birthday dinner tonight,” Scott said happily, and Steve beamed at Bucky, who shrugged. 

“I’m sure Tony won’t get suspicious,” Bucky said tightly.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Scott said, sitting on Steve’s lap. 

“You won’t cause any trouble,” Steve reassured him. 

“I don’t know why we just don’t tell him,” Bucky said quietly.

“Are you serious? What are we gonna say? ‘Oh, by the way, Tony, we’re not really a couple, and we’ve been lying to you all this time because we just wanted to rent your apartment’.”

“God,” Bucky said, exhaling loudly. “We’re evil, aren’t we?”

“Look, you did what you had to do,” Scott said soothingly. “You shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

“We don’t, do we?” Steve said, but Bucky still didn’t look sure. “Anyway, come on, Scott.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk Scott to the subway.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Bucky said wistfully.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Anyway, be back soon.”

“Bye!”

Steve couldn’t help himself. He kissed Scott as they were going out the gate, never noticing the curtains twitching on the top floor…

***

As they walked, Steve told Scott about the birthday cake he’d had made for Bucky. “It’s in the shape of a typewriter,” he enthused. “You know, because he’s a writer. I thought it would be cute and retro.”

“You’re very sweet to Bucky,” Scott said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well, I’m a very sweet guy.”

“Yeah, you are.” Scott kissed him as they reached the subway station, and Steve looked after him longingly. When he turned around, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Natasha there, looking livid.

“Where were you this morning?” Natasha asked, seething.

“I was in bed?” Steve replied.

“Why was today important to me, Steve?”

Steve looked at her in confusion, before remembering her telling him—multiple times, in fact—that she was being promoted to sergeant that day. “Uh, yeah, I forgot,” he said sheepishly.

“You forgot.”

“I’m sorry!”

“I thought you were my friend!” Natasha said angrily.

“I am!”

“It’s him!” Natasha pointed at the subway station. “It’s Scott! You’ve only been with him two weeks and already I’m yesterday’s news. You weren’t even as bad as this when you were with Sharon!”

“Natasha,” Steve said soothingly, “you’ll always be my number one.”

“Then why don’t you treat me like it?”

Steve sighed. “Look, Natasha, it’s been a long time since I’ve had someone like Scott in my life, okay? I’m just excited.”

“We used to do everything together. You blew me off last week to spend time with your new boyfriend. Well, you enjoy it. Just remember whose shoulder you cried on when Sharon dumped you.”

“I will.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.” She ran off, and Steve watched her go, confused. 

When he got back to the apartment, he met Tony on the stairs. Tony narrowed his eyes. “I know what you’re up to,” he said, and Steve smiled, assuming he meant the surprise cake. 

“Did Natasha tell you?” he asked, and Tony looked shocked. 

“Does she know?”

“Yeah, well, I had to tell someone.”

“You are a very bad man,” Tony said, looking disgusted. “He loves you, that boy.”

“Who does?”

“Bucky!”

“Does he?”

“Of course he does!”

“Did he say that?” Steve asked, heart pumping in his chest.

“No, but it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Steve suddenly caught on. “Yeah, well, he’s my boyfriend, isn’t he?” he lied. 

“Yeah, well, you’d better tell him, Steve. Because if you don’t, I will.”

“But it’s supposed to be a surprise?” Steve said helplessly, and Tony looked even more disgusted.

“You bastard,” Tony said, and stormed away.

While Steve stood there feeling extremely confused, he head a ruckus from Bruce’s apartment. He went down and knocked on the door. Getting no reply, but hearing lots of things breaking inside, he opened the door and immediately got covered in paint.

“What the fuck, Bruce! This shirt was new!”

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m expressing myself,” Bruce told him.

“By throwing paint around?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Clint broke up with me,” Bruce whimpered.

“Oh, shit, really? What happened?”

“He wanted to treat me like a fashion accessory, taking me out and showing me off. When I finally got sick of it, he finished with me,” Bruce said woefully.

“He’s shallow, Bruce,” Steve said, awkwardly patting Bruce on the shoulder. 

“Do you think he’ll come to the dinner tonight?”

“Well, he is Bucky’s best friend. You’ve just gotta be strong, man.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“You’ll be fine. It’ll take time, but you’ll be fine, okay?” Bruce nodded, and Steve smiled. “Anyway, I’d better get back to Bucky, but I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

Steve left, shaking his head. Poor Bruce.

***

Bucky wasn’t in when Steve got back, but he had a text to say he’d meet everyone at the restaurant. Steve got ready, nervous flutters in his stomach. He wanted Bucky’s birthday to be perfect.

When he arrived at the restaurant with Scott, everyone was there but Bucky, and there was a strained silence around the table. As he was taking everyone’s drinks orders, Bucky walked in, and Steve’s mouth dropped open. Bucky was wearing a shimmery black shirt, his hair was styled around his face, and his pants hugged him in all the right places. As he got closer, Steve realized that Bucky was also wearing a touch of eyeliner, and he felt his pulse speed up. 

_Scott! You’re with Scott!_ his brain reminded him, but for a moment Steve didn’t care. He went over to meet Bucky and kissed him on the cheek. “You look amazing, Buck,” he murmured, and Bucky blushed. 

“Thanks, Steve,” he said softly. “You look good too.”

Scott kind of monopolized Steve’s attention the whole evening, and he didn’t notice the tensions around the table. When Bucky and Scott got up to go to the bar, Tony collared Steve. 

“You have to tell him, Steve,” Tony said gruffly. “If you don’t, then I will.”

Steve sighed. “Why would you want to ruin his birthday? Anyway, if anyone is going to tell him, it should be me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not going to, are you?” Tony glared at him. “And the longer you leave it, the more painful it will be.”

Steve looked at Tony in confusion. “What are you on about, Tony? This is hardly—” At that moment, Bucky and Scott came back to the table, and as Tony opened his mouth, Steve blurted out, “I got you a surprise birthday cake” at the same time as Tony said, “Steve is having an affair.”

“What?” Bucky asked, wide eyed, looking at Tony.

Tony sighed. “Steve is… having an affair. With him,” he finished, pointing at Scott. “I saw them kissing this morning, outside the gate.”

Steve shook his head wildly at Bucky, who sighed. “No, Tony. It’s not like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“No, it is like that, Bucky, and I’m sorry, he means nothing to me,” Steve said quickly, trying to salvage the situation.

“I think we should just tell him,” Bucky said.

“Tell me what?” Tony cried. 

“Tony… we’re not really a couple,” Bucky said, and Tony’s eyes widened as Steve buried his face in his hands. 

“What?”

“We’re not really a couple,” Bucky said again. “I’m really sorry. We had to say we were to get the apartment, but the truth is, we lied to you, and we’re really sorry.”

“You lied?” Tony looked heartbroken. 

“Yeah, but we were desperate. We didn’t think about the consequences, or how much it would hurt you,” Bucky said softly. “We didn’t mean to hurt you, it’s just the longer we left it, the harder it was to—”

“You lied?” Tony cried out. “Why?”

“Well, the advertisement said ‘professional couples only.”

“No it didn’t! I remember calling the newspaper and telling the guy what I wanted. He seemed like an idiot at the time, I remember, but I never said it was supposed to be professional couples only! I can’t believe you lied to me after all this time, I bought you a present for your anniversary! Both of them!”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said helplessly, and Tony stood up.

“I suppose you all knew about this, didn’t you? All laughing about me behind my back!” Tony looked like he was near to tears, and Steve’s heart broke a little. “I’m going. Somewhere away from you guys.”

He stomped away, as Scott made an excuse too and left, and Steve glared at Bucky. “Well done, Bucky.”

“Me?” Bucky laughed hollowly. “I wasn’t the one kissing my supposedly secret boyfriend at the gate. What were you thinking?”

“He doesn’t think about anyone else when he’s with Scott,” Natasha said bitterly.

“Natasha…”

“You think this doesn’t affect me? I live there too, and I’m gonna be homeless now because of you.”

“What do you mean, because of me? You wouldn’t be homeless if he”—Steve gestured to Bucky—“had kept his mouth shut!”

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t have had to say anything if you had just kept your tongue in your mouth!” Bucky yelled.

Suddenly they were all arguing, when suddenly the waiters brought out Bucky’s cake, singing happy birthday. They left, and Bucky threw a handful of the cake at Steve. Steve retaliated, and then they were all throwing cake at each other. 

Until the manager came along and kicked them all out.

As they left, Clint turned to them all. “I’m going home. Happy birthday, Bucky.” He marched off, heels clicking on the sidewalk. 

“What are we going to do?” Steve asked. 

“We could go clubbing?” Natasha replied.

Steve gave her a look. “I meant about Tony.”

Bucky sighed. “We’ve all got to pull together, or we’re going to lose everything.”

***

When they got back to the apartment, Steve turned to Bucky. “So Bruce and Natasha are searching the streets in case Tony’s somewhere out there.”

“There’s a hundred liquor stores in the area,” Bucky said quietly, petting Colonel Phillips as he sprawled beside him. “He could be in any of them.”

“Yeah, maybe they’ll get lucky.” He saw that Bucky was near to tears, and hugged him “Hey, don’t worry, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, but it feels different this time, Steve. Serious.” He paused. “We’ve had some good times here, though, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, happy days.” 

They smiled wanly at each other. All they could do now was hope.


	13. Part 2, Chapter 13

_They say the family of the 21st century is made up of friends, not relatives. Then again, maybe that’s just bullshit._

Bucky and Steve stared in horror at the ‘For Sale’ sign that had taken up residence outside the apartment block. When they went inside, some guy was showing a young couple around their apartment. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“Mr Stark has decided to sell the place,” the man said, smiling. “It’s a good investment—I believe this property has actually tripled in price since its last purchase.” Bucky clutched at Steve’s arm. “Anyway, I’d better get back to the office. This place is attracting a lot of attention. Goodbye!”

He and the young couple left, and Steve and Bucky looked at each other. 

“Fuck, this is serious,” Steve said. “You heard the guy, this house has tripled in value. That’s enough incentive for Tony to move, let alone the fact he’s so mad at all of us.” He paused, and Bucky looked at him expectantly. “Let’s go lean on Bruce, see what he knows.”

When they went downstairs, Bruce opened the door, and they were greeted with cries and shrieks of pain. Off of Bucky’s look, he pointed to his stereo. “I’m having trouble vocalizing my emotions at the moment, so I’m listening to _Sounds of Despair_.”

“Is it helping?” Bucky asked.

“Not really. He’s gone to Long Island.”

“Tony’s gone to Long Island?” Steve blurted out.

“No, not Tony. Clint.”

“Why has Clint gone to Long Island?” Bucky asked, nonplussed.

“He said he needed time to think. His family have a house there.”

“Oh. We thought you were upset about the apartment,” Steve said.

“Why would I be upset about the apartment?” Bruce asked, looking around wistfully. “This apartment is the one thing I can rely on. The one port in a storm. The one thing which isn’t susceptible to the whims of love! The solid core to my otherwise painful, tortured existence. I don’t know what I’d do without it. What did you want to talk about anyway?”

“Er…”

Bruce took the news pretty much as could be expected. Although now the shrieks of pain were his, rather than from his stereo.

As they left Bruce’s apartment, Steve sighed. “We’ve gotta get Tony back. We’ve gotta find him and say, you know, ‘We’re sorry we hurt you but for all our sakes, please come back and don’t sell the apartment block’.”

“Maybe not in such a whiny voice,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, maybe not.”

Their next stop was the top floor apartment, and Natasha. She opened the door, frowning at Steve when she saw him. Bucky assumed that meant Natasha still hadn’t forgiven Steve, especially as the first words out of her mouth were, “How’s Scott?”

“He’s fine,” Steve said. “Look, have you heard about the block?”

“Yeah, tripled in value, apparently.”

“Have you heard from Tony?” Bucky asked.

“Nope, but some guy on a motorbike came to pick up his stuff.”

“Hells Angels?”

“Nah, he was thrown out of the Hells Angels in ‘02.”

“So who does he know?” Steve asked. “Who, aside from us, might he associate with, or go to in his time of need who knows a big guy on a motorbike?”

They all thought for a moment, before looking at each other and saying in harmony, “Peter!”

They broke into Tony’s room, which was locked, with much dissenting from Bucky until he realized this meant he’d be able to see what Tony’s room looked like. And boy, was it worth a look. Plush and velvet and satin everywhere. 

“Is this what we’re looking for?” Natasha asked, throwing Steve a small book from one of the drawers in Tony’s chest.

“Yeah.” Steve looked through it. “Okay, I’ve got an address. What now?”

“I’ll call Luis, get his van?”

“Yeah, we need a plan…” 

As Steve and Natasha spoke, Bucky looked out the window and saw Colonel Phillips heading through the garden to the neighbors’, despite Bucky calling his name.

“Uh, why don’t you two go on ahead? Colonel Phillips has got into the neighbors’ and I don’t want him to get lost or run over.”

Steve looked at him in disbelief. “Bucky, get your priorities straight! This is our home we’re talking about! And when did you start giving a shit about the cat anyway? It’s not like you pay him any attention.”

Bucky went cold all over. “Right. Right. Okay then.”

“Bucky,” Steve said apologetically, but Bucky just breezed past him.

He headed downstairs, and knocked on one of the neighbors’ doors. An old woman opened the door, and Bucky saw Colonel Phillips winding around her feet. 

“Um, that’s my cat?” Bucky said, pointing to the orange beastie.

“And such a lovely cat he is, too. He likes to visit me,” the old woman said.

“Right, well, I’ll just be taking him home now,” Bucky said, smiling fakely and picking up the cat. Colonel Phillips meowed.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have him visit. Any time you’re away or anything, you just pop him down and I’ll take good care of him.”

“Uh, thanks,” Bucky said, and made good his escape. When they got back into the apartment, Colonel Phillips sat down on his bed and started washing himself, his one good eye winking at Bucky. “What did I do wrong, Colonel Phillips?” he asked, slightly tearfully. “I treat you right, I don’t neglect you, do I?” He thought for a moment. “Oh, god, I’m such a terrible fur-dad. I’m so sorry.”

Colonel Phillips considered him for a moment, then ran out the door again. Bucky’s lip wobbled and he blinked back tears. Where had it all gone so wrong?

***

Bucky was looking at a job offer from a newspaper upstate when Steve, Bruce, and Natasha returned.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how it went?” Steve asked.

“How did it go?”

“Really badly.”

Bucky sighed. “Colonel Phillips is gone.”

“What?”

“He went next door.”

“Oh, god, Bucky, I’m sorry. How did that happen?”

Bucky looked at Steve in confusion. “Well, he walked?”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Steve said. “My mom used to use ‘going next door’ as a euphemism for being dead.”

“Whoa!” Natasha said suddenly. “You mean my rabbit is dead?”

“It’s been 18 years, Natasha. Where did you think he was?”

“Next door,” Natasha replied tearfully.

“So that’s it, then,” Bucky said slowly. “Tony’s gone, Clint’s gone, Colonel Phillips is gone—”

“My rabbit’s gone!”

“—Natasha’s rabbit’s gone.” He sighed. “Everyone leaves.”

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve said as the door buzzer went. “Not everybody leaves.”

He to answer the door, and there stood Scott. “Steve, I’ve been offered a job in Seattle, working for Marvel.”

Steve grabbed Scott’s hand and pulled him inside. “Okay, Bucky, you know when I said not everybody leaves? Well they do.” He dragged Scott into his bedroom, and Bucky sighed. Steve came out of his bedroom a few moments later. “Well, I’m tired, see you in the morning!”

“Steve,” Bucky said quietly. “What are we going to do?”

Steve shrugged. “Short of something pretty spectacular, I’ve no idea. Anyway, I’m off to bed.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, almost to himself. “Me too.”

By the next morning, he’d made up his mind. There was nothing there for him any more. He was going to take a train up to Canton that day and take the job at the newspaper. He packed his things quickly, leaving a note on the table for Steve, and left with one last look at the apartment block that had been his home for a year.

***

As Bucky waited at the train station, he looked through photographs of the last year. He had about an hour left until his train. The note he’d left for Steve had been short, but to the point, saying that he felt that they’d all drifted apart, and that a little distance might do him good, but he hoped they’d keep in touch as friends. 

Ten minutes before the train was due to arrive, he heard a strange noise. When he looked up, there was Steve, on the back of his Battlebot, Colonel Phillips in a kitty carrier rucksack on his back.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve said, a question in his eyes, and Bucky felt himself melt.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Come home, Buck?”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, okay.” He paused. “I thought you were supposed to be seeing Scott off at the airport.”

“Yeah, he, um. Natasha went to see him off. I thought I should maybe come and get you.”

Bucky stopped, giving Steve a long look. “Why?”

Steve sighed, glancing at the ground before looking Bucky in the eyes. “Because I don’t love him.”

Bucky felt his heart beat faster in his chest. “Oh?”

“I love you, Buck.”

Bucky felt like his chest was going to crack, he was so happy. “What the hell took you so long, Rogers?” he asked, half laughing and half crying.

“Bucky. Can I kiss you?”

Bucky didn’t answer in words. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, and their lips met. It was their first kiss, but somehow Bucky felt as though they’d been kissing forever—the feeling was both familiar and not, and it was making his head spin.

When they finally broke apart, Steve sat back down on the battlebot. “Come on, Buck. Let’s go home.”

“Do we still have a home, then?”

“Oh boy,” Steve laughed. “Have I got a story to tell you.”

As Steve spoke, telling Bucky the story of how they managed to get Tony back, Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

He was going home.


End file.
